


The Shattered Family

by Madriddler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Harry, Coming Out, Cute Harry, Feel-good, M/M, Masturbation, Mpreg, Multiple Orgasms, Post Mpreg, Third Year sex, Top Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:51:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 102,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7303978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madriddler/pseuds/Madriddler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Potter survives the night Voldemort came to Godric's Hollow. Mourning over Lily's death, James raises Harry to be the best he can be, setting goals that Harry must meet. At 13, Harry Potter starts to stray from his father's goals as he struggles with his sexuality. How will his father react to the news his own son is gay? Will it bring them closer or tear them apart? And will it bring back feelings locked inside long ago?  DM/HP BZ/RW SB/RL OW/GW</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fated Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This fic is my first one on this site, and is originally from FanFiction! Both are works in progress, and will be updated simultaneously. Hope you all have a great day, and thanks for reading!

The Shattered Family  
Chapter 1  
Fated Night

James Potter relaxed in his armchair. Lily relaxed in the sofa and both watched as their one year old baby Harry sitting up on his toy broomstick his godfather Sirius gave him. James laughed as he watched Harry starting to chase their cat, the broomstick only a foot above the ground as he did so. Harry babbled and squealed as he chase the cat, Lily watch intently while James chuckled.

“He’s going to be a great Quidditch player one day, I just know it,” James said.

“Just make sure he doesn’t hurt himself,” Lily said as she stood up to follow Harry and their cat. “Last time he rode that he destroyed my sister’s ugly vase.”

James just laughed more. “Don’t worry, Lily, he’ll be fine.” He stood up and pocketed his wand. They have been at Godric’s Hollow for almost six days by now. With the Dark Lord apparently looking for them, the Potters needed a place to hide. Dumbledore had found the small house for them and placed the Fidelius Charm that protected the house. Lily and James wanted at first to make their best friend Sirius Black their secret keeper, but Sirius told James that the move would be obvious, so James and Lily chose their friend Peter Pettigrew instead.

James looked around and had to admit to himself that he was growing to like the small house, it had a comforting, cozy feeling that he found comforting. “I got it Lily! When he’s older, I’m going to teach Harry how to be an Animagus like his old man,” he said as he stood next to his wife. He smiled at her, “James and Harry! The father-son unregistered Animagi who will roam all over the place!”

Lily just rolled her eyes and shook her head. “A Quidditch player, an Auror, and an Animagus? Boy James, you have a lot planned for our Harry,” she chuckled.

“Well, he is going to be the best at everything he tries, I can feel it! And that’s what we want yeah? The best for Harry?” James asked.

Lily nodded and rested her head on his shoulders. “I just want him to be happy. …Think Dumbledore will defeat him?”

“Who?”

“You-Know-Who,” Lily said.

“Of course he will Lily, we have nothing to worry about,” James said. Lily chuckled and shook her head. “Guess you’re right.”

There was a loud screeching sound and Lily’s head immediately snapped towards Harry, who almost ran over the cat. “Harry!” she said, rushing towards their baby and picking him up. “That’s the second time Harry,” she scolded him. Harry just looked up at her. Lily sighed and shook her head. “Just be careful Harry, alright?”

Harry just smiled up at his mother before babbling again. Lily and James both laughed. “We should bring you to bed soon mister,” she said as she started towards the stairs.  
“Alright, I’ll be down here,” James said. He took out his wand and started to twirl it. He sat down back in his armchair and waited for his wife. He barely sat down when there was a deafening blasting sound, like a cannon going off, and the front door blasted open, destroyed.

“LILY!” James yelled, jumping to his feet and running towards the front door, his wand out. There stood a hooded man in the doorway. In his hand was a wand as he stood calmly there. “Lilly! It’s him! Grab Harry and run!” James asked.

“Avada Kedavra!” The Dark Lord said, his wand pointed at James Potter. James casted a Shield Charm and moved out of the way at the same time. The Killing Curse easily broke through the Shield Charm, but missed James, instead causing a force that pushed James away, his body landing limp on the ground, his head hitting the table.

Satisfied that the man is dead, Lord Voldemort slowly moved towards the stairs and climbed them. He could hear the boy, who was crying behind a locked door, and the hushed whisperings of the girl trying to comfort him. He stood in front of the door and pointed his wand at it. The door blasted off if its handles and the girl screamed. She stood in front of the boy, sitting in his crib. “Move aside girl,” Lord Voldemort said.

“Never,” the girl said. “You’ll never take my baby.”

“Move aside you silly girl, you don’t need to die…” Voldemort said.

“You will never get Harry!”

“Stupid girl.” Voldemort said. He pointed his wand at Lily and said, “Avada Kedavra!”

“Harry!” the girl yelled as she died, her body falling in front of the crib, Voldemort’s wand following.

Satisfied he can now destroy the only thing able to kill him, Voldemort silently stepped towards the babe, taking great pleasure with every step he took. The babe did not cry or scream, instead he just stared up at Voldemort as the Dark Lord pointed his wand at him. “Avada Kedavra!” he yelled. The Killing Curse barely erupted from his wand when something happened, instead of killing the child, the Curse seemed to reflect from the baby and hit the caster instead. The spell caused the room to be destroyed as the Dark Lord’s corporal form obliterated.

Harry started to cry, great pain on his forehead as the lightning bolt scar appeared on his forehead. The baby looked up, tears in his eyes as he watched as a phantom seem to rise from the body. “Harry!” a familiar voice yelled. Harry just watched the phantom which seemed to be disappearing before him as his father ran up the stairs. James Potter appeared, alive and bruised, his wand in his hand. “Harry!” he screamed again. “Harry—oh thank god Harry you’re safe!” He cried when he saw that his son was safe. He looked around for Voldemort. The destroyed room was empty, the only bodies being in there being the alive Harry Potter and James Potter, and the corpse of Lily Potter. When his eyes fell upon Lily, James felt as if his heart was pulled out of him.

“Lily—oh god Lily! Please don’t be dead! Lily! Lily! Lily!” James yelled as he ran towards Lily’s body. He fell to his knees and pulled up Lily’s body. “Lily! Oh god!” he cried, bending over his dead wife’s body as tears fell from his eyes. He cradled the body as he grieved, not able to comprehend that his best friend is gone.

A second cry startled his attention, and James looked around to see Harry crying as well. “Harry…” he said softly as he gently laid his wife’s body on the ground and stood up. He picked up his son and held him in his arms, hushing him as he bounced on the soles of his feet gently. “Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh, it’s okay Harry,” he said, tears still in his eyes. “Everything is going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. You’re going to grow up and be the best man you will be. You’ll go to Hogwarts… get into the best house, make great friends… join the Quidditch team and be the star player… it’ll be the best Harry.”

“’Ello! Is anyone alive!” Hagrid’s booming voice yelled from downstairs. James held Harry close as he yelled, “Hagrid! Is that you?”

“Professor Dumbledore! James’ is safe!” Hagrid yelled. James started to move from the nursery, but stopped at the doorway, looking back at the body of his wife.  
“James? Lily?” Dumbledore’s voice asked calmly. “James are you there?”

“I’m here Professor Dumbledore,” James said, unable to move. “Harry’s safe but Lily—oh god Lily…”

Footsteps could be heard as Dumbledore hurried up the stairs, followed by Hagrid. Dumbledore turned the corner and walked up to James. “What happened?” he asked. “The alarms went off in my office, are you two okay? Where is Lily?”

James could not talk. He shook his head and finally moved away from the doorframe, allowing Dumbledore to see Lily’s body. Dumbledore frowned and walked to examine the body. Hagrid bounded up the stairs and caught up. “There’s no one around Professor,” he said. Dumbledore, who was bent over Lily’s body, just nodded as he waved his wand over her. Hagrid’s eyes fell upon Lily’s corpse and he gave a wailing, harsh sound.

“Hagrid—hey Hagrid, it’s okay…” James said, trying to believe what he was saying. “Stop crying, you’re going to wake Harry.”

Hagrid looked down and noticed Harry in James’s arms. “Sorry…” he sniffed.

Dumbledore closed Lily’s eyes and stood up. He walked to James and asked, “Do you remember what happened?”

James nodded. “Yeah… I think so…”

“Can you tell me?” Dumbledore asked. “I know it is hard, but please, I need to know what has happened tonight.”

“You-Know-Who… he came, he came in and attacked me. He tried to kill me, but I casted a Shield Charm and moved me out of the way. I was knocked unconscious and next thing I knew my wife is dead, my son scarred and he is gone!”

Dumbledore nodded. “May I…” he said, indicating to Harry. “I just want to look at him.”

James nodded and held out Harry for Dumbledore. Dumbledore examined the boy, his eyes fixed on the lightning-bolt scar. He nodded grimly. “I see… James, I have a theory, if you would like to hear it.”

“Yes! Please, I need to know why that madman killed my wife!” James said roughly. Dumbledore nodded.

“To begin, we must remember the prophecy I have told you about, the one that states the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord is coming. Voldemort was not after you or your wife, but rather your son,” Dumbledore said in a calm, grandfatherly voice.

“Harry? But he couldn’t be the one—“

“The evidence is there,” Dumbledore said. “One must simply look at his forehead. The scar. Voldemort has marked Harry here as his equal.”  
“But why is my wife dead and son not?” James demanded.

“Lily must have sacrificed herself to save Harry, just as you were ready to,” Dumbledore said. James nodded, knowing that he would gladly sacrifice himself for his son. “Her sacrificed has given Harry a powerful protection that Voldemort never knew. He has never felt or knew what love is. Lily’s love for Harry, a special love between mother and son, must have protected Harry from Voldemort’s killing curse. I suspect that the effect caused Voldemort to simply be… obliterated.”

“So you mean… Voldemort is gone?” James asked.

“It appears so,” Dumbledore said. “But right now, what is important is getting Harry safe… and finding out how Voldemort learned of this place.”

James nodded. “Peter… he is the only one who knew! Oh god… please don’t tell me—“

“It appears so,” Dumbledore said grimly. “Peter Pettigrew must have told Lord Voldemort of Godric Hollow. … I am sorry James.”

“That bastard!” James yelled, waking Harry. “I’ll kill him! That slimy fucking bastard—“

“James Potter!” Dumbledore said sternly. “Calm yourself! You have woken Harry.”

James looked down and frowned. He started rocking him. “We will deal with Peter later, right now we need to move you and Harry out of here. Do you have anywhere to go?”

“Yeah… we’ll go live at my old house, it’s not a manor… but it’ll do,” James said.

Dumbledore nodded, “Then that is where you’ll go. Hagrid will take you there, I will inform Sirius about what has happened.”

“Thank you Professor… but what about Lily’s body?” he asked.

“She will have a proper burial, don’t you worry. Now, let us get Harry safe.” Dumbledore said. James nodded and followed Dumbledore out of the cottage that has been Harry’s only home. He frowned when he noticed that Harry’s toy broomstick was broken, and Lily’s cat has gone missing. Outside the destroyed cottage he looked down at Harry and smiled sadly. “You’re going to have a wonderful life,” he whispered to his sleeping son. “You’ll become a Gryffindor… have great friends… join the Quidditch team… find a nice girl and fall in love… everything will be wonderful Harry. I’ll make sure of it.”

**HARRY POTTER THE BOY WHO LIVED!**  
You-Know-Who has been defeated! And it is all thanks to a small child, Harry Potter! Reports has stated that Harry Potter, barely nineteen months old, has survived a direct attack from He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named! The babe, who lives with his father who was knocked unconscious by You-Know-Who, has miraculously survived being hit by the Unforgivable Curse. All that is left from the encounter is a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead, an image this reporter was not able to photograph. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was nowhere to be seen, presumed dead under the rubble. His father, James Potter, refuses any meetings with his son, moving him to an unknown location. While James Potter can be seen in public, only to do his job as an Auror, his son is never seen with him. Potter refuses to respond to our questions why, but he assures us that The Boy Who Lived is still alive, and that he wants to live in peace with his son. The Daily Prophet has chosen to respect his wishes.

**PETER PETTIGREW DISAPPEARED!**  
Peter Pettigrew, wanted for the accomplice of the murder of Lily Potter, has disappeared. Nothing is known about the disappearance only that his small cottage has been left empty, as if it was never there. Aurors reported to be able to find one piece of evidence though, an index finger that has been identified as Peter Pettigrew’s finger. More will come if new information arise.

**CURSED POSITION AT HOGWARTS?**  
For the second time in a row, Hogwarts is without a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher! It all began when Quirinus Quirrell was found dead two years ago at the end of term. No one quite knows how had died, Aurors and School officials stating that his heart had just quit. Next was the famous and lovable author, Gilderoy Lockhart. Lockhart had taught for a full year until somehow severely losing his memory and ending up in St. Mungo’s.

The School and School board puts down any claims to the cursed rumor. Lucius Malfoy stating, “The only people who believe the position is cursed are clearly mad. These are just two tragic coincidences that happened. Nothing more, nothing less. To even spend time debating about it is ludicrous.” Is it ludicrous for two teachers to become unable to teach the same subject back to back? Only time will see as Hogwarts enters a new year soon, and I am sure everyone’s best wishes are to the man who takes the job.

Harry Potter was thirteen years old. He had lived with his dad in their cottage for all he can remember. His father had told him what happened to his mother, and why wizards and witches will treat him like a celebrity. Despite the celebrity idolization, Harry’s father had tried his best to make sure his son never grew up in the spotlight, never letting anyone see him. It was just his father and him until he turned eleven and got his letter to Hogwarts. From there, his world opened up. He made friends, Hermione who is the brightest witch he had ever known, and Ron, his best friend; got into Gryffindor, which his father was very ecstatic about. When he learned about it, his father had sent a long letter congratulating Harry and telling him that he knew Harry would be a Gryffindor just like his mother and father. He even joined the Quidditch team in his first year! A feat that has never been done before, but made James all the prouder. “You’re growing right,” he told Harry countless times. “You’re doing great Harry, I’m so proud of you.”

Harry smiled whenever James praised him. He worked hard to make his father happy; everything he did was for his father. Even if he didn’t like some things as much as he should. If he wanted to be honest with himself, Harry would admit that though he liked Quidditch, he liked watching it more than actually playing it. It wasn’t that he hated the sport… he just did not like the pressure everybody puts on him to do well. Sometimes he felt that he doesn’t live up to his father’s image simply by his body.

Where his father is tall and strong looking, Harry is short and delicate. His knees are knobby and his limbs are skinny. No matter how much he eats or runs or do anything, he always had a petite body size that girls called cute, but some boys snicker at. His father says that he has the perfect Seeker body, but that only made Harry frown. His eyes are large and doe-like, the exact image of his mother’s eyes his father told him, but with everything else he looks exactly like his father. They both have the same types of glasses, both have unkempt, messy black hair, they both walked the same, talked the same. Harry was in image, a miniature James Potter. Except… there were obvious differences that Harry had, that he was scared to bring up, him not liking Quidditch being one. The other… was that if he had to again be honest with himself, he doesn’t mind snakes. Both the Slytherin kind and animal kind. His father told him to hate snakes, as he said the man who murdered his mother was a Slytherin, so Harry tried and made a rival ship with Draco Malfoy, which only made James even happier.

“My son going up against Lucius’ spawn!” he wrote in one letter. “I love it! Bout time someone teach those dirty Malfoys a lesson!”

Harry did not want to hate Draco Malfoy, he didn’t seem at all bad when they first met. In fact, he reminded Harry a lot of himself as they both led sheltered lives. He didn’t like Pansy Parkinson though, she kept calling Hermione a “Mudblood” which only caused him to get angry. Draco also used that word, but Harry figured a lot less.  
“Harry, there you are! Why are you reading that Potions book?” James Potter asked as he walked into his son’s room. Harry was buried in the book, quill in one hand as he wrote his essay for Snape. He genuinely hated Snape.

“Homework dad,” Harry said. “Snape gave us an assignment, essay about Shrinking Solutions. I’m almost done…”  
“Alright, well I’ll be in my study if you need me,” James said. “Kingsley wanted me to do the report about that guy we got two days ago. You know, the one who tried to break into that witch’s house?” James sighed and shook his head, “You’re going to hate the paperwork when you become an Auror, Harry, I swear.” James chuckled to himself. Harry just nodded, focused on his work for once. He enjoys potions, it calms him down when he can concentrate on what he is doing, which is normally impossible with Snape breathing down his neck looking for mistakes. “Well… you know where to find me,” James said.

“Yeah dad—hey dad, can you look over my Transfiguration essay?” Harry asked, looking up from his essay. He massaged his cramped hand as he turned to his father.  
“Course I will,” James smiled. “You know I’m the best at Transfiguration! Just don’t let Professor McGonagall hear that,” he chuckled. “Where is it?”  
“Right there,” Harry said, pointing to a rolled up parchment on his bed. James took it and left. Harry hoped that his father saw the permission slip to Hogsmeade in there. During the entire summer vacation, Harry has tried to get his father to sign it, but James kept refusing to. Tomorrow Harry is leaving for Hogwarts, so really this is his last chance to get James to sign it or else he cannot go to Hogsmeade with his friends.

Harry kept the permission slip in the back of his mind. If he needed to, he could easily just steal his father’s Invisibility Cloak again. It was funny, Harry’s dad still believes that it is always locked in a chest that is almost impossible to get, but with a couple of Wingardium Leviosa’s and an Alohomora, Harry can easily get the cloak out of the chest.  
It took Harry almost an hour, but he finished Snape’s essay to satisfactory, he had to write slow so Snape could not deduct points for his sloppy handwriting. With the essay done, he set it on his desk for the ink to dry and left his room to search for his dad.

The Potter’s house was moderate size, Two stories, the house resides on a side of a hill in the countryside. The two bedrooms were on the second floor, Harry’s filled with memorabilia from his friends and a couple of posters of his favorite Quidditch team. Down the stairs was an open air flow between the rooms, as no doors stood in the way from kitchen, to living room, to the small laundry room in the corner, and dining room, which was a considered an extension of the kitchen. James Potter’s study was right next to his bedroom, and where he hides the chest containing the Invisibility Cloak.

Harry knocked on the door and opened it slowly. He walked in to find his dad sitting at his desk. His Transfiguration essay was rolled up, and in his hand was the permission form for Hogsmeade. “Trying to trick me Harry?” James asked when Harry walked in. “I told you once, I’ve told you many times… I will not allow you to go to Hogsmeade.”

“But all my friends will be able to go there!” Harry said, getting frustrated with his father. “Why can’t I?”

“Because Harry, it is dangerous!” James said.

“That is what you always say!” Harry yelled.

“Do not yell at me Harry, I am your father!”

“Then tell me why I can’t go to Hogsmeade!” Harry yelled back.

“Because you’ll be attacked! At Hogwarts you are safe, even though you are surrounded by Death Eater spawn! Dumbledore is there and he makes sure nothing happens. But there—Hogsmeade—you are defenseless!” James yelled.

“I am not defenseless! I am not a little child!” Harry yelled, both men’s anger and frustration increasing as the argument went on. “And they will not attack me! Just because they are Slytherins doesn’t mean that—“ Harry stopped, not wanting to finish his thought.

“That what Harry?” James demanded.

“Nevermind,” Harry said, turning to leave. James flicked his wand and the door closed and locked itself.

“Finish your thought Harry,” James said. Harry said nothing, instead staring stubbornly at his father’s desk. “Harry,” James warned.

“Just because they’re Slytherins…” Harry said slowly, never adverting his eyes from the desk, “doesn’t mean that they’ll try to kill me.”

“Kill you!” James roared, completely outraged. “Listen to yourself Harry, you are showing how nieve you are!” James moved from his desk and quickly stepped in front of his son. He placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders and took several deep breaths, calming himself down. “Harry… remember what I told you,” he said in a more calming voice. “The world is cruel, the world is wicked. It’s I alone who you can trust! I am your father. … I’ve kept you, taught you, fed you, dressed you. I protected you from every type of evil there is in this world. How can I protect you Harry unless you stay where it is safe?”

Harry said nothing, he just stared down at his shoes. James sighed and shook his head. “Harry please… listen to reason. Death Eaters are still out there, and they’ll always will. I will not lose you Harry.” Harry continued to stay silent. Somewhere inside him, he wondered why he was acting the way he was. He never once yelled or acted against his father. He knew that James was always worried for his wellbeing and safety, especially since the Dark Lord killed his mother and tried to kill him. James had tried his best to keep Harry safe by limiting his interaction with the Wizarding World, but now… now Harry wants to explore the world, explore himself, and going to Hogsmeade was the first step of doing so.  
James sighed in frustration and returned to his desk. He picked up the permission form and shook his head. “Sorry Harry,” he said as he ripped it up. “This is for your own good.”  
Harry just watched as his father ripped the permission form up, powerless to stop him. James looked very saddened when he threw the pieces of the form in the trash. It broke his heart to destroy Harry’s wish, but it will be for the better. James picked up Harry’s essay, “Hey Harry… your essay was great by the way, Professor McGonagall will love it,” he smiled. “How about after you pack your things, we go out and play some one-on-one huh?”

“No thanks,” Harry said, taking the essay from his father. “I’m… a little tired.”

“Oh, alright,” James said frowning slightly. “Well… that’s fine…”

Harry just left his father’s study and returned to his room. Why was he so angry? His father just wanted to protect him but… he did not have to rip the permission form. Harry rolled his essay up and started packing. Twelve years his father had protected him, at least that is what James have told him. The world is filled with Death Eaters still angry that he killed The Dark Lord, and his dad is just trying his best to make sure Harry is never harmed. But, there are no Death Eaters in Hogwarts, and there certainly isn’t any in Hogsmeade. The Slytherins are nothing to worry about, sure some of them are children of accused Death Eaters like Draco Malfoy, but the only harm Draco has given him were nothing more than bumps and bruises during Quidditch matches. He didn’t outright seek to kill him!

Harry did not leave him room for the rest of the day. He waited until his father was fast asleep and crept into his father’s study. He stole the Invisibility Cloak and turned to leave. But as he walked past his father’s desk, his eyes fell upon a picture of his mother. The picture was taken the day Peter Pettigrew became their Secret-Keeper. James told Harry the story multiple times, of how they had trusted a map they thought was their friend, but he seemed to betray them the second he could. He remembered when he was young, his father used to spend countless nights searching for the traitor. He couldn’t find him no matter how hard he looked. Every night James would come back sad, and Harry did his best to cheer his father up, and before he went to bed, James would tell Harry a story about his mother. “I wish you were here…” Harry said to the picture. “You would have understood.”


	2. Family Reunion

Chapter 2

Family Reunion

Both Potters were silent as they traveled to Platform nine and three quarters. James decided to floo there directly, and asked if Harry wanted him to hold onto any of his belongings. Harry just nodded and dropped the trunk in front of James as he went out and search for their cat to say goodbye. His mother loved cats, so James decided to get Harry a cat for his fifth birthday. Harry loved it, and James as well as the cat kept him company at home when Harry was at Hogwarts.

Harry went first after he said his goodbyes to his cat, making sure he had Hedwig nicely locked in her cage. She was a gift from Hagrid who accompanied James and Harry on Harry’s first trip to Diagon Alley. He threw the powder into the fire, which blazed a light green, and said clearly, “Platform Nine and Three Quarters!” as he stepped through it. He stepped again and found himself in a room filled with active fireplaces. He stepped out of the fireplace and watched as witches and wizards strolled out of the other fireplaces, their children following them pulling similar trunks like Harry’s He waited for his dad to step through the fireplace. He looked around and smiled when he saw his friend. “Hi Seamus!” He said, waving at the Irish Gryffindor.

“Hiya Harry,” Seamus Finnigan said as he walked up to Harry. He seemed different then the last time Harry has seen him. Seamus seemed to have grown by half a foot between summers, as he towered over Harry. The Irish Gryffindor’s voice had also started to become deeper, his brogue becoming more apparent than before. Harry also noticed, somehow, that the boy’s shoulders broadened, and faint hints of muscles appeared.

“How was your summer?” Harry asked. The fireplace came alive behind him and James Potter stepped through.

“It was fine, didn’t go anywhere. You?”

“Same,” Harry said.

“There you are Harry,” James said. He looked at Seamus and nodded, “Hello Seamus.”

“Hello Mr. Potter,” Seamus said. He turned to Harry and said, “Listen, I got to go, looking for Dean. But I’ll catch ya later, right?”

“Yeah, alright,” Harry said waving Seamus goodbye.

His smile went with Seamus and he silently picked up his trunk and walked out of the small room, onto the station with a familiar scarlet train. James looked around and pointed, “Harry, there’s Molly and Arthur,” he smiled. Harry just nodded and walked towards his best friend’s parents, the smile reappearing when he saw Ron and Hermione.

“Harry!” they both screamed when they saw Harry, running towards him. Harry ran towards them and they hugged. “How are you guys?” Harry smiled. “I’ve read about your family winning that lottery!”

“Egypt was fantastic Harry, you should have seen it! Though Scabbers didn’t agree with Egypt,” Ron said as he pulled out his pet rat. Scabbers was looking thinner than usual, and there was a definite droop to his whiskers. James Walked up and smiled at Ron and Hermione. Scabbers made a soft sound and scurried back into Ron’s pocket. “How are you two doing?” he smiled.

“Fine Mr. Potter, how are you?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, James there you are. Molly and I were wondering where you and Harry were,” Mr. Weasley said as he and his wife walked up to them.

“Just had to make sure the cat was fed before we left,” James said. “So how was Egypt? I’ve read about it in the _Prophet_. Seven hundred Galleons, must have been a surprise.”

“It was nice,” Mrs. Weasley smiled. “Bill showed us the tombs he was working with. You would not believe the things the wizards did to muggles back then, nasty stuff. I wouldn’t let Ginny go into the last one Bill showed us, everything was so nasty and dangerous.”

“And where is Ginny?” James asked looking around. “I’m sure she is growing up to be a beauty like her mother.”

Mrs. Weasley laughed with a slight blush and said, “James, really. She is with the twins at the back of the train loading the trunks. Harry should do that too I think, it’s almost eleven!”

James nodded and looked at his watch. “By god you’re right! Harry! Grab your things and follow me!” Harry sighed and picked up his luggage, promising Hermione and Ron to meet them on the train. James waited till they were a way from the Weasley family then said, “So, I see that you and Hermione are close.”

“What.”

“Nothing, it’s just that… well your hug with Hermione seemed a bit long. … Do you like her?” James smiled. “Come on Harry, you can tell me, I’m your dad!”

“She’s my friend, of course I like her,” Harry said, not understanding his father’s question.

James chuckled. “So innocent,” he said. “Harry, I meant do you like her _more_ than a friend? You’re thirteen now my boy, now’s the time you start seeing the world in a new light.”

“What… god no!” Harry said, slightly revolted. “Dad! She’s my friend I don’t want her like—like—“ Harry was lost of words as he tried to describe his disgust.

“Like your mother and me?” James asked, trying to help Harry. Harry nodded. “Yeah, I don’t want to be that with her!”

James chuckled, “I understand, she’s your friend. Would be weird right? Then… how about Ginny? Or any other girl in your school?”

“What—no dad, can please just—I don’t want to do that with any of the girls,” Harry said irritably. He didn’t know why his father was being so… persistent in this matter.

“Alright, alright I understand. You’re still growing. But give it time Harry, and I’m sure you’ll start to feel differently. Then you’ll find a nice girl, a girl who wants you for more than your handsome looks you’ve inherited from your dad. Ahh—here we are,” James said when they reached the back of the train.

Harry said nothing as he lifted his trunk onto the train. James secured Hedwig’s cage near Harry’s trunk and the two walked back to the Weasleys and Hermione. “Ah, James… wanted to talk to you about something,” Mr. Weasley said.

Harry watched as Mr. Weasley and his dad stepped away from the group. “Are you sure that Kingsley can’t talk sense to the Minister? It just seems mad—dementors patrolling England!” Mr. Weasley said.

“I agree Arthur, as does Kingsley, but Fudge just won’t budge,” Harry’s dad whispered, thinking that the others couldn’t hear them. Harry looked back and saw Mrs. Weasley hugging and saying her goodbyes to the others. “We know it is a bad idea, but he has been working on it for the past ten years. Having the dementors at Hogwarts first however is simply ludicrous! There is no warning for anyone at all.”

“You mean you haven’t told Harry?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“No, I hoped that Dumbledore or Shaklebolt might have talked some sense into Fudge,” Mr. Potter said glancing around. “I honestly don’t know what Fudge is looking for with this project.”

“All I heard was that it is supposed to find Dark Wizards,” Mr. Weasley said. Harry’s dad shook his head and said, “Still, this all is excessive.”

“Harry dear, hurry up the train is starting to leave,” Mrs. Weasley said, shocking Harry back to reality. She gave Harry a hug and waved him goodbye.

“See you Harry!” James yelled out as Harry boarded the Hogwarts Express. “Don’t forget to write!”

“I won’t dad!” Harry yelled out before the compartment door closed. He frowned and turned to Ron and Hermione. “We need to talk privately,” he said.

“Go away, Ginny,” Ron said.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Ginny said huffily, and she stalked off.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but all were full except for the one at the very end of the train. This had only one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window. Harry, Ron, and Hermione checked on the threshold. The Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students and they had never seen an adult there before, except for the witch who pushed the food cart.

The stranger was wearing a shabby set of wizards’s robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, around Harry’s dad’s age, his light brown hair was flecked with gray.

“Who d’you reckon he is?” Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window.

“Professor R. J. Lupin-Black,” whispered Hermione at once.

How do you know that?”

“It’s on his case,” Hermione replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man’s head, where there was a small, battered case. The name _Professor R. J. Lupin-Black_ was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.

“Wonder what he teaches?” Ron said, frowning at Professor Lupin-Black’s pallid profile.

“That’s obvious, Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Harry said. “Just hope he’s better than Lockhart.”

Ron snickered and nodded. “What do you want to tell us, Harry?” Hermione asked.

Harry looked at her and said, “I’ve just heard my dad and Mr. Weasley talking about it. The Minister is trying something new at Hogwarts.”

“What is it?” Ron interrupted.

“He’s having dementors stationed at Hogwarts,” Harry breathed.

“What? Why!?!” Hermione demanded, her hands covering her hands in shock.

“That doesn’t make any sense mate,” Ron said. “You sure you heard right?”

Harry nodded and said, “Positive. Dad said that he tried talking to Mr. Shaklebolt to convince the Minister to not do it, but it didn’t work.”

“But… why dementors?” Ron asked. “Aren’t they supposed to stay in Azkaban?”

Harry and Hermione nodded. “Yeah,” Harry said. “But your dad said that it’s supposed to help find Dark Wizards or something.”

“Isn’t that your dad’s job though?” Ron asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“Oh well… at least they won’t be at Hogsmeade right?” Ron said. “Can’t wait to go there… Fred and George told me loads about it.”

“Do you know much about Hogsmeade?” Hermione asked keenly. “I’ve read it’s the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain—“

“Yeah, I think it is,” Ron said in an offhand sort of way, “but that’s not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!”

“What’s that?”

“It’s this sweetshop,” Ron said, a dreamy look coming over his face, “where they’ve got everything. …Pepper Imps—they make you smoke at the mouth—and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you’re thinking what to write next—“

“But Hogsmeade’s a very interesting place, isn’t it?” Hermione pressed on eagerly. “In _Sites of Historical Sorcery_ it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack’s supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain—“

“—and massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you’re sucking them,” Ron said, who was plainly not listening to a word Hermione was saying.

Hermione looked at Harry. “Won’t it be nice to get out of school for a bit and explore Hogsmeade?”

“’Spect it will,” Harry said heavily. “You’ll have to tell me when you’ve found out.”

“What d’you mean?” Ron said.

“I can’t go,” Harry said. “I tried to get dad to sign the permission form—multiple times but he just wouldn’t! Yesterday the man torn it up!” Harry said a bit too loudly. Professor Lupin-Black made a noise and moved in his seat, but stayed sleeping.

“What? That’s insane! Who in their right mind wouldn’t allow their kid to go?” Ron complained.

“He can’t do that! Can he?” Hermione said.

Harry frowned and shook his head. “He kept saying that it was to protect me,” he said.

“Protect you!? From what?” Ron gasped. “Nothing happened our first two years, what makes your dad think something’ll happen our third?”

“I don’t know!” Harry groaned. “It’s just so annoying at times! He kept telling me of all the times he and mum went to Hogsmeade and had fun at Hogwarts, but he won’t let me go! It’s like he is expecting Malfoy or any the Slytherins to just Curse me on the spot!”

“Well… considering Malfoy…” Ron said slowly.

“That’s not the point,” Harry said. “The point is that Dad’s being too protective with me. I mean, I’m thirteen yeah? I should be able to go to Hogsmeade with you guys.”

“Yeah,” Ron said, agreeing with Harry.

“Well… with the dementors around now,” Hermione said. “I don’t know… it could be that they are looking for someone.”

“Looking for someone?” Harry asked.

“Well it’s just a thought,” Hermione said.

“Don’t worry Harry,” Ron said. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to get you to Hogsmeade! We can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of the castle—“

“Ron!” Hermione said sharply. “I don’t think Harry should be sneaking out of school with the dementors out—what will happen if his dad hears about this!?”

“But we’re students,” Ron said. “I’m sure the dementors are smart enough to distinguish students and whoever they’re looking for.”

The Hogwarts express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened. People were chasing backward and forward past the door of their compartment. Hermione had unlocked her cat Crookshanks, much to Ron’s aggression as the cat tried to once eat Scabbers, and the cat had now settled in an empty seat, his squashed face turned toward Ron, his yellow eyes on Ron’s top pocket.

The witch who pushed the food cart appeared, and they brought lunch. When Harry was done with his Cauldron Cakes, Draco Malfoy appeared at the door, flanked by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Harry looked at Malfoy as the Slytherin glared at him. Malfoy seemed to change too. He, like Seamus, seemed to have grown half a foot and towered over Harry. Harry was sure that if they stood in front of each other, his head could only reach Malfoy’s chest. His face seemed to become handsomer, his aristocratic features showing off. Harry wanted to frown at Malfoy’s but couldn’t. He was confused on why he noticed the features, but right now he pushed that to the back of his mind. “What do you want?” he said.

“Well, look who it is… Potty and the Weasel,” Draco smirked. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly. “I heard your father got his hands on some gold this summer, Weasley,” Malfoy said. “Did your mother die of shock?”

“Watch it,” Ron threatened. Harry stood up in case he needed to hold Ron back. Professor Lupin-Black gave a snort.

“Who’s that?” Malfoy asked, taking an automatic step backward as he spotted Lupin.

“New teacher,” Harry said.

Malfoy’s silver eyes narrowed; he wasn’t foolish enough to pick a fight right under a teacher’s nose.

“C’mon,” he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappeared.

Harry and Ron sat down, Harry’s hand still on Ron’s arm as he frowned. That could have gone better, he thought as he realized he was still holding Ron. He let go immediately.

The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still Professor Lupin-Black slept.

“Couldn’t your dad arrest Malfoy’s dad?” Ron asked Harry.

“What? No,” Harry said. “I’m sure dad would love to do it, but he can’t just arrest someone and call them a Death Eater!”

“But he’s a prick, the same as his son!” Ron said.

Harry frowned and said, “Yeah Malfoy’s a prick, but I can’t just owl my dad and ask him to arrest Malfoy’s dad.”

The train started to slow down and Hermione looked around confused. “There is no way we can be there yet,” she said, checking her watch.

“So why’re we stopping?”

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.

Harry, who was nearest the door, got up and look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking out of their compartments.

The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

“What’s going on?” Ron’s voice said from behind Harry.

“Ouch!” Hermione gasped. “Ron, that was my foot!”

Harry felt his way back to his seat.

“Do you think we’ve broken down?”

“Dunno…”

There was a squeaking sound, and Harry saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the window and peering out. “There’s something moving out there,” he said. “I think people are coming aboard. …”

The door slowly slid open and a cloaked figure appeared. It seemed to tower to the ceiling, it’s face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry’s eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water.

An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, inside his very heart. Harry’s eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn’t see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He tried calling for his dad, but he voice couldn’t escape his mouth. And then, from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified pleading screams. The last thing he remembered was a thick white fog swirling around him, and a woman’s voice yelling “HARRY!!”

“Harry! Harry! Are you all right?”

Someone was slapping his face.

“W—what?”

Harry opened his eyes; there were lanterns above him, and the floor was shaking—the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the light had come back on. Professor Lupin-Black was now awake and standing over him, as well as Ron and Hermione.

“Are you okay?” Ron asked nervously.

“Yeah,” Harry said, looking towards the door. The hooded creature had vanished. “Was that… was that a dementor? What happened? Who screamed?”

“No one screamed, Harry,” Hermione said.

“But I heard screaming—“

A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin-Black was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces.

“Here,” he said to Harry, handing him a particularly large piece. “Eat it. It’ll help. I need to speak to the driver. Excuse me…”

Harry took the chocolate and took a bite out of it. To his surprise he felt great warmth spread suddenly to the tips of his fingers and toes. Professor Lupin-Black left and Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. “What happened?” he asked again.

“I don’t know. The thing… it just came in here and… it felt like I would never be happy again,” Hermione said. “You collapsed and the thing went for you, but then Professor Lupin-Black sprang up and this white… force repelled the thing back. I can’t really describe it well.”

Ron nodded, “Yeah, that is basically what happened.” Harry looked at the two of them and continued to eat his chocolate. “Then he gave us chocolate and those unhappy feelings went away.”

Harry nodded and looked at the sliding door. “Why did they get on the train?” He wondered out loud. “Surely they know that there wouldn’t be any Dark Wizards here.” He felt weak and shivery, as though he were recovering from a bad bout of flu; he also felt the beginnings of shame. Why had he gone to pieces like that, when no one else had? What would his father have to say about this?

Professor Lupin-Black had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said with a small smile, “We’ll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes. Are you all right, Harry?”

Harry didn’t ask how Professor Lupin-Black knew his name.

“Fine,” he muttered, embarrassed.

They didn’t talk much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside; owls hooted, cats meowed. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets. Harry was glad that Malfoy didn’t hear about what happened with the dementor. He really did not want to embarrass himself in front of the Slytherin. The trio got onto one of the horseless carriage and relaxed as it drove itself up the path to Hogwarts. “Well, it seems that at least we’ll have a professor who knows his stuff,” Ron said.

Harry nodded and looked at Ron. He was sitting close to Ron and it was here that he again noticed the differences Ron had. Harry saw faint muscles on Ron’s arms, but unlike Seamus’ they were a bit more defined, it was obvious that Ron will take after the twins as he grows. Harry kept noticing small details that started to appear on Ron and turned to look at Hermione. Hermione was… Hermione. There wasn’t any difference that he could see, not like he could see in Ron and Seamus. Confused he simply smiled at them and joked, “Hope my dad doesn’t hear about it. I wouldn’t get the end of it.”

Ron laughed, “Yeah, he’ll probably try to come to Hogwarts to teach you Defense Against the Dark Arts himself.” Harry and Hermione laughed at the idea, and the mood in the carriage lightened up considerably as they relaxed and fell into easy conversation. Harry just placed his confusion on a fact that maybe differences in boys are easier to spot than differences in girls.

An hour later found Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the Great Hall. The Sorting Hat has sung its song and sorted the new First Years. During the song and sorting, Harry kept glancing around, his eyes always falling on Malfoy for some reason. He noticed that Malfoy’s hair seemed to shimmer in the firelight, and his eyes, when they weren’t glaring at him, seemed like silver orbs that can expression a variety of emotions. Malfoy was currently talking to a dark-skinned Slytherin whose name Harry had forgotten. His mouth opened wide as he laughed, showing his perfect straight teeth.

Dumbledore stood up and smiled at all his students, silently calling for their attention and silence. “Welcome!” Dumbledore called out. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast. …”

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, “As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.”

He paused, and Harry remembered his father’s talk with Mr. Weasley. “They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds,” Dumbledore continued, “and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises. It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you.

“On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin-Black, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin-Black clapped hard.

“As to our second new appointment,” Dumbledore continued. “Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who had agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at one another stunned. Then they joined in with the applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffindor table in particular. Dumbledore began the feast and everyone started to eat their fill. Harry smiled the entire way, happy for Hagrid that he had gotten the teaching job. He decided that, even though he was still slightly mad at his father, he should still write to him and tell him about Hagrid.

When they entered the common room, Harry was not paying attention to where he was going and bumped into someone. He started to fall, only to stop and feel arms wrapping around him. He looked up and saw Oliver Wood smiling down at him. “Hey Harry… you okay?” Wood asked.

A blush for some reason appeared on Harry’s cheek. He just nodded and muttered, “Yeah… I’m fine Wood.”

Oliver Wood chuckled, and Harry noticed how deep Wood’s voice sounded up close. “You better be careful Harry, wouldn’t want to lose our Seeker due to falling now would we?”

“N-No, we would not,” Harry said. Wood helped him to his feet and Harry immediately made his way to the third year’s dormitory, his head and mind filled with confusion. He focused enough to write a short letter telling his dad the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Hagrid teaching Care of Magical Creatures. He tied it to Hedwig’s leg and watched as she flew away.

Wanting this eventful and confusing day to end, Harry quickly changed into his pajamas and climbed in his bed, making sure to close all of his curtains.


	3. First Signs

Chapter 3

First Signs

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, Harry saw Malfoy entertaining the Slytherins with a story. Harry kept his head down as they passed, and went to sit at the Gryffindor Table next to George Weasley.

“New third-year course schedules,” George said, passing them over. “What’s up with you, Harry?”

“Malfoy,” Ron said, sitting down on George’s other side and glaring over the Slytherin table. George looked up to see Malfoy still talking.

“Don’t worry about it Harry,” George said. “Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember Fred? And he said it was the worst place he’d ever been, he came back all weak and shaking. …They suck the happiness out of a place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there.”

“Anyway, we’ll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match,” Fred said. “Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?”

Harry just nodded and helped himself to sausages and fried tomatoes. He did not know why he was letting Malfoy affect him so, he never paid this much attention to the Slytherin before.

Hermione was examining her new schedule. “Ooh, good, we’re starting some new subjects today,” she said happily.

“Hermione,” Ron said, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, “they’ve messed up your schedule. Look—they’ve got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn’t enough time!”

“I’ll manage. I’ve fixed it all with Professor McGonagall”

“But look,” Ron said laughing, “see this morning? Nine o’clock, Divination And underneath, nine o’clock, Muggles Studies. And”—Ron leaned closer to the schedule, disbelieving—“ look—underneath that, Arithmancy, nine o’clock. I mean, I know you’re good, Hermione, but no one’s that good. How’re you supposed to be in three classes at once?”

“Don’t be silly,” Hermione said shortly. “Of course I won’t be in three classes at once.”

“Well, then—“

“Pass the marmalade, “Hermione said.

The owls started to arrive as Hermione and Ron bickered. Harry stopped paying attention and looked up to the soaring owls, searching for Hedwig. He found her and watched as she flew down to Harry, landing right in front of his plate, leg out. He untied his father’s letter and placed it to the side. Harry picked up some bacon bits and fed Hedwig before she nuzzled his finger and flapped her wings, leaving the table.

Harry turned his attention to his dad’s letter, opening it with a knife.

_Harry,_

_I’m glad Hagrid got the job, he deserves it after taking care of the lot in the forest. Thanks for telling me that. But I am worried about what you have told me about this Professor Lupin-Black? Listen Harry, be careful around him. He and his ~~husband~~ … friend are not to be trusted. Trust me Harry, I’ve known them, both of them, and they have betrayed my trust worst than Pettigrew is. Nasty little creatures. Stay safe Harry, and please keep me updated about the dementor situation. Both Kingsley and I are livid._

_Love,_

_Dad_

Harry frowned. Professor Lupin-Black dangerous? How can he be dangerous when he saved him on the train? There was a large part of Harry that wanted to obey his father, and try to limit communications with Professor Lupin-Black. But there was an equal large part, a part that his father told him comes from his own stubbornness and mischief, that wanted to tell his father “sod off” and that he’ll make his own opinion about the man. Harry nibbled on his lip as the two sides faced off inside him, each yelling their defense at him. Harry did not know which side to choose, on one hand he is his father and he seems to be just looking out for him, on the other his father ripped up his permission form and basically dictated his entire life. For once Harry wanted to live his life his own way, and looking down at the letter, staring at the crossed out “husband,” he decided that if he was going to live his own life… the first step would be to ignore his father. He will talk with Professor Lupin-Black, and decide on his own if he is a man to avoid.

“Harry… we better go,” Ron said. “Look, Divination’s at the top of North Tower. It’ll take us ten minutes to get there. …”

Harry snapped out of his thoughts and nodded, letting Ron lead as they left the Great Hall. The journey through the castle to North Tower was a long one. Two years at Hogwarts hadn’t taught them everything about the castle, and they had never been inside North Tower before.

“There’s—got—to—be—a—shortcut,” Ron panted as they climbed their seventh long staircase, and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall.

“I think it’s this way,” Hermione said, peering down the empty passage to the right. They had to ask a portrait of a stount knight for help. The knight was more than happy to lead them, going through the paintings on the walls as Harry, Ron, and Hermione chased after him. When they reached a spiral staircase, the knight yelled his “farewells” as the three began climbing the staircase. They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing, where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this landing, but Ron nudged Harry and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.

“Sibyll Trelawney, Divination teacher,” Harry read. “How’re we supposed to get up there?”

As though in answer to his question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Harry’s feet. Everyone got quiet.

“After you,” Ron said, grinning as Harry climbed the ladder, following him.

He emerged into the strangest-looking classroom he had ever seen. It was a cross between someone’s attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs.

Ron appeared at Harry’s shoulder as the class assembled around them, all talking in whispers Harry distinctively felt Ron placing his hand on his shoulder as he said, “Where is she?”

A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice. “Welcome,” it said. “How nice to see you in the physical world at last.”

Harry’s immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

She told them to sit down, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat themselves around the same table. Harry looked at Ron, and himself and noticed the small distance that was between them. Harry supposed that it would awkward to sit so close to Ron, but he did not want to move.

“Welcome, to Divination,” Professor Trelawney said, as she seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. “My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye.”

Nobody said anything to the extraordinary pronouncement. She began talking again, but Harry’s mind wandered. He looked around the room, and saw shelves that ran around the circular walls that were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups. His eyes then next noticed the people in the room. There were a mixture of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws with only two Hufflepuffs. Harry noted, with a small relief, that there were no Slytherins in this classroom. He did not want to imagine the torture Malfoy would give him in this class.

“You boy!” Professor Trelawney said suddenly pointing at Neville. She snapped Harry out of his thoughts, and almost cause Neville to fall out of his pouf. “Is your grandmother well?”

“I think so,” Neville said tremulously. Harry couldn’t help but noticed that Neville’s face, while still round, started to develop an attractive quality about it. If he wanted to put a word to it, Harry would describe it as cute. The girls will go wild, Harry thought to himself.

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, dear,” Professor Trelawney said, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulped. Professor Trelawney continued placidly. “We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear,” she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, “beware a red-haired man.”

Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her and edged her chair away from her. Harry looked at them confused, and somehow just started staring at Ron as Professor Trelawney continued. Harry was noticing and counting the freckles on Ron’s cheeks, ignoring their teacher’s speech again. This seemed more productive, and to Harry’s luck, Ron seemingly did not notice his counting at all.

“—And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever,” Professor Trelawney said. She seemed unaware of the tense silence as she turned to Lavender Brown, “I wonder, dear, if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?”

Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.

“Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading—it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October.”

Lavender trembled. Professor Trelawney told them to break off into pairs, collect a teacup, and come to her so she would fill it. “Drink until only the dregs remain,” she instructed her students. “Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of _Unfogging the Future_. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh and dear”—she caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up—“after you’ve broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I’m rather attached to the pink.”

Harry moved his seat virtually next to Ron’s, who didn’t seem to mind as they went to collect their cups. True to her word, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china. Professor Trelawney had him clean it up and get a blue cup. When Harry and Ron had had their teacups filled, they went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding tea quickly. It was too hot that Harry could barely taste it as the liquid invaded his throat. They swilled the dreg around as Professor Trelawney had instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over.

“Right,” Ron said as they both opened their books at pages five and six. “What can you see in mine?”

“A load of soggy brown stuff,” Harry said, smiling when Ron laughed.

“Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!” Professor Trelawney cried through the gloom. Harry tried to pull himself together and took a deep breath. A strange scent invaded his nose, and he breathed in again, looking for the source.

It was a nice, hot scent that was hard to describe. Harry closed his eyes and silently breathed it in and turned towards the scent, only to see it was Ron, who was busy looking at Harry’s teacup. Grossed and confused, Harry turned to look at Ron’s trying to forget that he was basically sniffing his best friend. Why would he even do such a thing! He wondered as he looked at the teacup.

“Right, you’ve got a crooked sort of cross …” he consulted his textbook. “That means you’re going to have ‘trials and suffering’—sorry Ron—but there’s a thing that could be the sun… hang on… that means ‘great happiness’… and there’s a… head thing… and that means ‘confusion’ … so you’re going to suffer but be very happy… and confused about something…?”

“You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me,” Ron said, and they both had to stifle their laughs as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction.

“My turn…” Ron said as he peered into Harry’s teacup, his forehead wrinkled with effort. “I think I see the head you’re talking about… so you’re confused. There’s a blob a bit like a bowler hat. Maybe you’re going to work for the Ministry,” he chuckled. He turned the teacup the other way up. “But this way it looks more like an acorn. …What’s that?” He scanned his copy of Unfogging the Future. “’A windfall, unexpected gold.’ Excellent, you can lend me some… and there’s a thing here,” he turned the cup again, “that looks like an animal… yeah, if that’s was its head…looks like a hippo—no a sheep…”

Professor Trelawney whirled around as Harry let out a snort of laughter. She took the cup and stared into it. “The falcon… my dear, you have a deadly enemy.”

Harry stared at her confused. “But everyone knows that,” Hermione said in a loud whisper. Professor Trelawney stared at her. “They do, everyone knows about You-Know-Who and Harry.”

Harry frowned at Hermione. He hadn’t heard or thought about You-Know-Who for a long time. He was dead, why would Hermione have to remind him about a dead man?

“The club… an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup…”

“I thought that was a bowler hat,” Ron said sheepishly.

“The head… yes, there will be confusion in your life my dear,” Professor Trelawney said, nodding. “The skull… danger in your path, my dear…”

Everyone was staring, transfixed at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed. She sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.

“My dear boy… my poor, dear boy…no…it’s kinder not to say…no… don’t ask me!”

“What is it Professor?” Dean Thomas asked at once. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Harry and Ron.

“My dear,” Professor Trelawney’s huge eyes opened dramatically, “you have the Grim.”

“The what?”

“The Grim, my dear, the Grim!” Professor Trelawney cried. “The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen—the worst omen—of death!”

Harry’s stomach lurched. Death? Lavender Brown clapped her hands to her mouth too. Everyone was looking at Harry, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney’s chair.

“ _I_ don’t think it looks like a Grim,” she said flatly. “That is clearly just a small dog, which the book says stand for confusion in love.”

Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike. “You’ll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonance of the future.”

Trelawney ended the class there, and they silently left and headed towards Transfiguration. The Gryffindors whispered among themselves, some looking at Harry as they walked. Harry chose a seat right at the back of the room, feeling as though he were sitting in a very bright spotlight; the rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at him, as though he were about to drop dead at any moment. He hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling them about Animagi, and wasn’t even watching when she transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

“Really, what has got into you all today?” she said, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at them all. “Not that it matters, but that’s the first time my transformation’s not got applause from a class.”

Everybody’s heads turned to Harry again, but nobody spoke. Hermione rose her hand and said, “Please, Professor, we’ve just had our first Divination class—“

“Ah, of course,” Professor McGonagall said, suddenly frowning. “There is no need to say any more. Tell me, which one of you will be dying this year?”

“I am… Professor,” Harry said as everyone stared at her.

“Ah, Potter. Then you should know, that Sibyll Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues—“

She broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, more calmly, “Divination is one of the more imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Profesor Trelawney—“

She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, “You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don’t let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in.”

Hermione laughed. Harry felt a bit better. It was harder to feel scared of a lump of tea leaves away from the dim red light and befuddling perfume of Professor Trelawney’s classroom. Not everyone was convinced, however. Ron still looked worried as he glanced at his friend.

Harry spent their lunch break looking around the Gryffindor Table as Ron and Hermione bickered. He looked down and saw Fred and George Weasley talking with their friend Lee Jordan. Harry watched as Fred and Lee laughed and George blushed. He shook his head and looked towards the other tables. Harry tried to follow George’s gaze but couldn’t. So instead, he just watched George as he smiled at someone and offered a small wave. Harry watched as George’s smile widened. It seemed to Harry that George and whoever he was talking to were having a private, silent conversation. Harry felt like he shouldn’t watch, as if watching was intruding on George’s privacy but for some reason he was transfixed on George, watching every small movement the Weasley makes. George smiled and winked at whoever he was talking too. He blushed and stuck his tongue out.

Fred noticed what his twin was doing and laughed, slapping George’s back and getting his twin’s attention again. George laughed with him and sent one last smile before turning his attention back on Fred and Lee. Harry continued to watch as he ate, and only snapped back to Ron and Hermione when Hermione snatched up her bag and stalked away. Ron frowned after her.

“What’s she talking about?” he said to Harry. “She hasn’t been to an Arithmancy class yet.”

Harry looked at Ron confused by didn’t ask. He was pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. Yesterday’s rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as they set off for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class.

Ron and Hermione weren’t speaking to each other. Harry walked beside them in silence as they went down to Hagrid’s hut. It was only when he spotted three only-too familiar backs ahead of them that he realized they must be having these lessons with the Slytherins. Malfoy was talking animatedly to Crabbe and Goyle, who were chortling. Harry was quite sure he knew what they were talking about. A ways from them stood another Slytherin that Harry barely ever noticed. He was tall with chocolate skin and hazel eyes. If Harry wanted to guess the Slytherin had an Italian air around him as he leaned against the fencepost to Hagrid’s garden. When he noticed that Harry was staring at him, he just smirked, causing Harry to look away quickly.

Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. “C’mon, now, get a move on!” he called as the class approached. “Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin’ up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!”

For one nasty moment, Harry thought that Hagrid was going to lead them into the forest; Harry had never been in the Forbidden Forest, but heard of the dangerous creatures that are said to be living in it. However, Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of padlock. There was nothing there.

“Everyone gather ‘round the fence here!” he called. “That’s it—make sure yeh can see—now, firs’ thing yeh’ll want ter do is open yer books—“

“How?” Malfoy said in a drawling voice.

“Eh?”

“How do we open the books?” Malfoy repeated. He took out his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope.

“Just got ter stroke the spine,” Hagrid said. The Slytherin Harry was staring at smirked and looked up at Harry, as if trying to share a joke he did not get. Hagrid took Hermione’s copy and ripped the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand.

“Oh, how silly we’ve all been!” Malfoy sneered. “We should have _stroked_ them! Why didn’t we guess!”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry said quietly. Hagrid looked downcast and Harry wanted Hagrid’s first lesson to be a success. Harry watched as the Slytherin who was staring at him walked up to Malfoy and whispered something in his ear. Harry paid it no mind as he stroke his book, feeling suddenly conscience of the people around him.

“Righ’ then,” Hagrid said, who seemed to have lost his thread, “so—so yeh’ve got yer books an’—an’ now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I’ll go an’ get ‘em. Hang on…”

He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight. The Slytherin kept Malfoy busy as the two talked, the Slytherin having a smirk as Malfoy just rolled his eyes.

Lavander Brown made a noise and everyone looked around to see Hagrid coming back with three creatures that looked a mixture of an eagles and horse. “Hippogriffs!” Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. “Beau’iful aren’ they?”

Harry could sort of see what Hagrid meant. Once you got over the first shock of seeing something that was half horse, half bird, you started to appreciate the hippogriffs’ gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feathers to hair.

“So,” Hagrid said, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, “if yeh wan’ ter come a bit nearer—“

No one seemed to want to. Ron, Hermione, and Harry, however, approached the fence cautiously.

“Now, firs’ thing yeh gotta know abou’ hippogriffs is, they’re proud,” Hagrid said. “Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don’t never insult one, ‘cause it might be the last thing yeh do.”

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren’t listening; they were talking in an undertone and Harry had a nasty feeling they were plotting how best to disrupt the lesson. The Slytherin who was talking to Malfoy just shook his head but did not stop them.

Hagrid continued to tell the class about the hippogriffs, instructing and showing how to bow to one before approaching. Afterwards, Hagrid volunteered Harry to go first and approach a hippogriff. “Right then—let’s see how yeh get on with Buckbeak.”

Hagrid pulled the grey hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Malfoy’s eyes were narrowed.

“Easy now, Harry,” Hagrid said quietly. “Yeh’ve got eye contact, now try not ter blink. …Hippogriffs don’ trust yeh if yeh blink too much.”

Harry’s eyes immediately began to water, but he didn’t shut them. He wanted to glance at the class, at the curious Slytherin, but didn’t. Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring at Harry with one fierce orange eye.

“That’s it,” Hagrid said. “That’s it Harry… now bow…”

Harry didn’t feel much like exposing the back of his neck to Buckbeak, but he did as he was told. He have a short bow and then looked up. The hippogriff was still staring haughtily at him. It didn’t move.

“Ah,” Hagrid said, sounding worried. “Right—back away, now, Harry, easy does it—“

But then, to Harry’s enormous surprise, the hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.

“Well done, Harry!” Hagrid said ecstatic. “Right—yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!”

Feeling that a better reward would have been to back away, Harry moved slowly toward the hippogriff and reached out toward it. He patted the beak several times and the hippogriff closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it.

The class broke into applause, all except for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were looking deeply disappointed. The strange Slytherin just spared them a glance before returning to his applause. Hagrid clapped loudly and awarded Harry ten points. He then reckoned that Buckbeak would let Harry ride him. This was more than Harry bargained for as Hagrid helped him up. Buckbeak stood up and started to gallop, its wings expanding as it pushed off of the ground. Buckbeak flew him once around the paddock and then headed back to the ground. Harry felt adrenaline rush through him as he barely was able to get off of the hippogriff, thankful he was on solid ground again. He would have rather play three games of Quidditch back to back then ride Buckbeak again.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak as Harry walked back with Hagrid. He had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking disdainful.”This is very easy,” Malfoy drawled, loud enough for Harry to hear him. “I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it. …I bet you’re not dangerous at all, are you?” he said to the hippogriff. “Are you, you great ugly brute?”

It happened in a flash of steely talons; Malfoy let out a high-pitched scream and the next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Malfoy, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes.

“I’m dying!” Malfoy yelled as the class panicked. “I’m dying, look at me! It’s killed me!”

“Yer not dyin’! Hagrid said, who had gone very white. “Someone help me—gotta get him outta here—“

Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Malfoy easily. As they passed, Harry saw that there was a long, deep gash on Malfoy’s arm; blood splattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle. Harry felt an intense feeling of guilt. He wanted to check on Malfoy, make sure that he was alright.

Very shaken, the class followed at a walk. The Slytherins were all shouting about Hagrid.

“They should fire him straight away!” Pansy Parkinson said, who was in tears.

“It was Malfoy’s fault!” Dean Thomas snapped. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly.

They all climbed the stone steps into the deserted entrance hall. “I’m going to see if he’s okay!” Pansy said, and they all watched her run up the marble staircase. Harry stayed back as the rest of the class returned to their common rooms. Then, alone, Harry started to follow Parkinson. He quickly made it to the hospital wing and slowed down as he heard Parkinson’s crying voice, “That damn oaf! They should fire him! No—send him to Azkaban! All for hurting my poor Draco!”

“Stop that Parkinson, I am not your Draco,” Malfoy’s irritated voice said. “And go away! I don’t want your stupid tears ruining my robes.”

“Draco,” Pansy said, shocked.

“Go away Parkinson,” Malfoy ordered. Harry heard Parkinson’s loud cries as she walked away from Malfoy’s bed. Harry hid in the shadows as he watched Parkinson leave the hospital wing, crying. For some weird reason, Harry did not feel any sorry for her. When he was sure she was gone, he stepped out of the shadows and steeled himself as he walked into the hospital wing.

Malfoy was laying down in a bed closest to an open window. He was propped up and glared at Harry when he saw him. “What do you want Potter? Came to gloat at me?” he spat.

Harry frowned, his eyes staring at his newly bandaged arm. It was held by a sling that went around his elbow, and Harry could see blood staining it. “No…” he said softly as he took a step towards Malfoy, his eyes never leaving the bandaged arm.

“Then what? Don’t tell me you feel sorry for me Potter?” Malfoy spat.

“I… I… I don’t know,” Harry said.

“I don’t want your pity Potter,” Malfoy said. “So if that is why you are here, sod off.”

Harry frowned and shook his head. He continued walking to Malfoy’s bed until he reached the chair beside it. Malfoy glared at him the entire way. Harry hesitated as he started to reach for the bandaged arm. Malfoy turned his glare to Harry’s hand as he gently and slowly placed it on the bandage, feeling the heat coming from the arm. “You’re bleeding…” he said more to himself.

“Really? I haven’t noticed!” Malfoy drawled sarcastically. “What are you doing Potter!” Malfoy said as Harry reached for the sling.

“I… I was going to clean it…” Harry said. “One time when I was six, my dad got a cut on his leg. A wizard he was chasing transfigured a candle to a knife and it flew at him. Dad did not want to go to St. Mungo’s so he just came home when he caught the outlaw. When I saw him, I was petrified. I never saw my dad look so hurt before. I’ve never saw my dad hurt, period. He tried to calm me down, and taught me how to dress his wound. I did, and afterwards I noticed that I stopped crying. Dad congratulated me and told me to remember how to dress a wound. After that, whenever Dad got hurt on the job, he just came home and helped me as I dressed his wounds. He did the spells of course, but I did the muggle work. He called me his personal Healer, and after we finished he always rewarded me by going to his muggle ice cream shop I loved.”

Harry did not know why he told Malfoy this. Malfoy just stared at him as Harry reached again for the bandages. Malfoy glared at him as Harry removed the sling and looked at the bandage. It was holding, though Harry thought it could use a second layer. He grabbed a roll of bandages off of the table near Malfoy’s bed and went to work. Both boys were silent as Harry worked, Malfoy glaring at Harry, and Harry remembering all the times he did this for his dad. He missed those times.

When he was done, Malfoy just looked at Potter. “Well, are you going to leave or what?”

“Oh, err…” Harry said, surprised by his reaction. He thought Malfoy could be at least a little thankful. “Well… alright,” he said standing up. “See ya… Malfoy.”

Malfoy remained silent as Harry turned to leave. Harry did not know why, but he felt a great air of disappointment as he walked away from Malfoy, as if he was expecting something different from the prat.

“That was a nice story, you know,” a voice said. Harry turned around and saw the same Slytherin who was smirking at him at Care for Magical Creatures. “Of course a prat like Draco didn’t get it,” he chuckled.

“W-Who are you?” Harry demanded.

“You forgot my name? Harry, I’m disappointed,” the Slytherin said. “I was the last one to be sorted in our year, I thought that would make me somewhat memorable.” Harry just stared at the Slytherin. He sighed and presented his hand. “Zabini. Blaise Zabini,” he said.

“What do you want Zabini?” Harry asked, giving the Slytherin a sharp look as he edged away from him.

Zabini chuckled and said, “First, I just wanted to remark on how cute you look. Not bad, for a Gryffindor,” he chuckled. Harry’s cheeks reddened as he glared angrily at the Slytherin. Why is he calling him cute!? He isn’t cute! “Second, I would like to apologize for Draco’s behavior. You see, Draco is a lot like me, and you of course, but unfortunately he can be a bit of a prat at times.”

“What do you mean by ‘like you and me?’” Harry asked, watching the Slytherin suspiciously.

Zabini smiled and said, “Well Harry, I’m sure that if for you to figure out by yourself. However… can you tell me one thing?”

“What?”

“Do you hate Slytherins?”

“What?” Harry said, confused. “Well… no I guess. You’re all prats but why do you care?”

Zabini just shrugged, “No reason, it’s just that you are cute, and I like cute things.” Harry glared at him, so he added, “I just want to see if we can be friends. No suspicious acts or other motives.”

Harry just stared at him. He did not know what the Slytherin was talking about. Slytherins were all evil right? That is what his father had told him… thinking of his father reminded Harry of the letter this morning, and his mission to rebel from his father and make his own opinion about Professor Lupin-Black. Could befriending Zabini cause the same, or would it be too much? Confused, Harry just looked at Zabini and said, “I’ll think about it.”

“Alright Harry,” Zabini said. He stood a step closer and shook Harry’s hand. “It was nice seeing you up close Harry, you are much more cuter this way.”

Zabini chuckled as he walked into the hospital wing, leaving Harry to his confusion. Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room and tried to work on Professor McGonagall’s homework, but he and everyone else were worried about Hagrid. During dinner, Harry kept glancing at the Slytherin Table in the Great Hall. A large group including Crabbe and Goyle was huddled together, deep in conversation. Marry was sure they were cooking up their own version of how Malfoy had been injured. He also noticed, to his surprise, that Zabini was not part of the group, instead busying himself with his food.

“The cut was deep but he’ll be alright, it won’t scar or anything,” Harry said frowning.

“What?” Hermione asked.

“Malfoy’s wounds. I saw them in the hospital wing. They’re not that bad… I mean, I’m sure they hurt a lot but dad got worst during his job,” Harry said.

“What were you doing visiting Malfoy?” Ron asked, shocked that Harry would think to do such a thing.

“I wanted to see if he was alright,” Harry said. “It was his fault for not listening but still… I help somewhat guilty.”

“But… it’s Malfoy! The git deserves to be slashed at like that,” Ron argued. “Anyway, you gonna tell your dad?”

“Tell him what? About the incident? He’ll probably be happy that Mr. Malfoy’s son got hurt, then both scold me for fixing him up, and congratulate me for doing such a good job,” Harry shrugged.

“Where did you learn to do that anyway?” Hermione asked.

“Dad,” Harry said. “Though I don’t know any spells, just muggle stuff.”

“Malfoy’s probably faking it,” Ron said at once. “Madam Pomfrey can fix anything. Remember when you got hit by that bludger last year? And Lockhart tried to fix it, but instead he removed your bones?” Ron laughed.

“Don’t remind me that was the most painful night I had!” Harry said, remembering the incident. Somehow last year, a bludger hit Harry just as he caught the Golden Snitch. It broke his arm, and Lockhart tried to fix it. Madam Pomfrey had him drink this vile liquid and he could barely sleep as his bones painfully regrew.

“Well, trust me, Malfoy’s trying to milk it for all it’s worth. You probably got him before Madam Pomfrey could fix him up,” Ron said.

Harry nodded and looked at the Slytherin Table again. The large crowd has disperse and returned to eating their dinner. Harry’s eyes fell onto Zabini, who was talking to Parkinson, though it looked more like the two were arguing, as the Slytherin turned and noticed Harry’s stare. He smiled and winked at Harry before returning to Parkinson. Harry bit his lip and continued to stare at the table. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what Zabini said. That he and Harry were the same… and so were he and Malfoy? As if! Harry did not want to be the same as Malfoy. Sure, he wanted a chance to know Malfoy more, but that chance seemed to have left. Once a git always a git. But yet… Harry could not knock those words out of his mind. He wanted to know more, he wanted to know why Zabini believed that the three of them were the same. On the same line of thinking, he wanted to know more about Zabini, what he is playing at. He also wanted to know why his father had warned him to stay away from Professor Lupin-Black. He seemed to be a nice man, and a knowledgeable wizard, knowing how to deal with dementors. All this and more swam through Harry’s head as he wordlessly went through dinner. There was so many things he wanted to know, and only time can tell if he can learn them.


	4. The Boggart

Chapter 4

The Boggart

Malfoy didn’t reappear in class until late on Thursday morning, when the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. Harry was deep in concentration making today’s potion, a Shrinking Solution, when the doors opened. He turned to see Malfoy swagger into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Harry’s opinion, as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.

“How is it Draco?” Pansy simpered. “Does it hurt much?”

Malfoy did not answer her, just giving her a look as he walked past her. Harry guessed he had not forgiven Parkinson yet for visiting him in the hospital wing.

“Settle down, settle down,” Professor Snape said idly.

Harry and Ron scowled at each other; Snape wouldn’t have said “settle down” if they’d walk in late, he’d have given them detention. But Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything Snape’s class.

Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table. Harry spared him a passing glare before returning to his ingredients. He had almost everything ready, he just needed to skin his shrivelfig and then he could add them to his cauldron, the potion inside starting to turn into the needed acidic green.

“Sir,” Malfoy called, “sir, I’ll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because my arm—“

“Weasley, cut up Malfoy’s roots for him,” Snape said without looking up.

Ron went brick red. “There’s nothing wrong with your arm,” he hissed at Malfoy. Malfoy smirked across the table.

“Weasley, you heard Professor Snape, cut up these roots.”

Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy’s roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.

“Professor,” drawled Malfoy, “Weasley’s mutilating my roots, sir.”

Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair.

“Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley.”

“But sir—“

“Now,” Snape said in his most dangerous voice.

Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again.

“And sir, I’ll need this shrivelfig skinned,” Malfoy said, his voice full of malicious laughter.

“Potter, give your shrivelfig to Malfoy,” Snape said, giving Harry the look of loathing he always reserved just for him.

Malfoy smirked as Harry took his shrivelfig. He regrettably gave Malfoy his, throwing it at Malfoy as he began work skinning the shrivelfig again. “I should never have cleaned your wounds,” he muttered.

“Sorry Potter, can’t listen to muttering,” Malfoy smirked.

Harry glared at him and spat, “Prick,” at him.

Malfoy returned the glare. “Father’s not very happy about my injury—“

“Keep talking, Malfoy, and I’ll give you a real injury,” Ron snarled. Harry looked between the two and added, “I’ve seen your injuries Malfoy, stop faking it.”

“—he’s complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father’s got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this”—he gave a hug, fake sigh—“who knows if my arm’ll ever be the same again?”

“Shut up Malfoy,” Harry said. “My dad’s influential to the Ministry as well. One of the best Auror in the Ministry. I’m sure the Minister will most likely listen to him then that slimly prat you call a father.”

“Watch it Potter,” Malfoy threatened.

Harry looked up at him, pure anger in his eyes as he whispered, “I should have jinxed you in the hospital wing. Your wound would have lasted longer if I did not clean and dress it for you. You want to know pain? I can give that to you.”

Both boys glared at each other before the taller looked down at his cauldron. “Thank you,” he said harshly. “For dressing my cut.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry said coldly. He turned his attention to the dead caterpillars he was cutting. He was supposed to cut them in half, and he looked over at Ron, who was still struggling to repair the damage to the roots he now had to use. Harry felt pity for his friend, so he took Ron’s dead caterpillars and began cutting them for him.

“Thanks mate,” Ron said, offering Harry a smile.

A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned—

“Orange, Longbottom,” Snape said, ladling some up and allowing it to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see. “Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn’t you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn’t I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?”

Neville was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.

“Please sir,” Hermione said, “please, I could help Neville put it right—“

“I don’t remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger,” Snape said coldly, and Hermione went as pink as Neville. Malfoy smirked and Harry turned to glare at the taller teen. “Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly.”

Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear. “Help me!” he moaned to Hermione.

Malfoy smirked and chuckled. “What you laughing about?” Harry asked, turning his full attention on Malfoy.

“Longbottom, the boy’s hopeless,” Malfoy said. “I’d swear he was a Squib with him screwing up everything.”

“Watch it Malfoy,” Ron warned. “Or I’ll feed you to the Dementors.”

“Just ignore him Ron,” Harry said. “He’s just a glory-seeking prat.”

Malfoy glared at Harry, his eyes shining malevolently. Harry ignored him and focused on his task, helping Ron cut his remaining ingredients. Harry turned his entire focus again on his potion. This is how he is able to brew, his entire concentration needed to be on the potion he is working on, ignoring his hatred for Professor Snape and his irritability with Draco Malfoy, the boy he tried to befriend. Only his potion and Ron’s matter. When he finished cutting Ron’s ingredients he turned his focus to his cauldron for the rest of the class, letting it simmer when it needed to and mixing when it needed mixing. At the end of the lesson, his potion was the precise acid-green Professor Snape asked for, who only awarded Harry one measly point for Gryffindor.

Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron.

“Everyone, gather ‘round,” Snape said, his black eyes glittering, “and watch what happens to Longbottom’s toad. If he had managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don’t doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned.”

The Gryffindors watched fearfully, the Slytherins, excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville’s potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor’s throat.

There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape’s palm.

The Gryffindors burst into applause, Snape looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on the top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown.

“Five points from Gryffindor,” Snape said, which wiped the smiles from every face. “I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed the steps to the entrance hall. Harry was still thinking about what Malfoy said about the school governors while Ron seethed about Snape. At the Great Hall, Harry spent half of lunch glaring at Malfoy, trying to figure out what his father was planning to do, and debating if he should talk to his own dad. His eyes somehow fell on Zabini, who was talking with Malfoy as Crabbe and Goyle flanked them. There was something about the boy that made Harry feel… weird.

He didn’t know how to describe the feeling. Just watching the Slytherin just made his heart start to race, as if it was anticipating something. Harry assumed that that was just him being suspicious and returned to his food.

Professor Lupin-Black wasn’t there when they arrived at his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. He smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher’s desk. He was as shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train, as though he had a few square meals.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “Would you please put all your books in your bags. Today’s will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands.”

As they did so, Lavander Brown raised her hand and asked, “Professor? Why do you have two last names?” She looked as if she wanted to ask that question ever since the Opening Feast. Everyone looked at her, then back at Professor Lupin-Black, wondering how he will react.

Professor Lupin-Black just chuckled. “It’s okay, would seem odd for a Professor to have two last names wouldn’t it? My last name was Lupin, while my husband’s name was Black. To make a long story short, we couldn’t decide whose last name we should use, so I just hyphened them together. Though, it is a bit of a mouthful isn’t it? ‘Lupin-Black,’” he chuckled again and looked around at the classroom. “Why don’t you all just call me Professor Lupin? That way, we can all save a second that can be used for class.”

The class seemed to agree, their talking now switched to Professor Lupin’s husband. Another hand shot up and asked, “Where’s your husband!?”

“Home with our ten year old son,” Professor Lupin-Black said. “Now, let us hurry up and grab our things.”

“Black… huh,” Ron said.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“Nothing, the name just sounds familiar that’s all,” Ron shrugged. Harry nodded and got his things together, puzzled and excited to see what Professor Lupin had planned. He couldn’t help but stare at Professor Lupin… Lupin-Black. He had never in his life met someone like him, a man who has a husband? Harry never thought that was a possibility, his father never talked about it, and neither did everyone he knew. Harry didn’t even know if there was a word for it. There should be.

He led them along the deserted corridor, around a corner, and down the second corridor and stopped, right outside the staffroom door.

“Inside, please,” Professor Lupin-Black said, opening it and standing back.

The staffroom, a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher. Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filled in. His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. As Professor Lupin-Black came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, “Leave it open, Lupin. I’d rather not witness this.”

He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him. At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, “Possibly no one’s warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in her ear.”

Neville went scarlet. Harry glared at Snape; it was bad enough that he bullied Neville in his own classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers.

Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows. “I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation,” he said, “and I am sure he will perform it admirably.”

Neville’s face went, if possible, even redder. Snape’s lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.

“Now then,” Professor Lupin said, beckoning the class towards the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

“Nothing to worry about,” Professor Lupin said calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. “There’s a boggart in there.”

Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. Harry remembered briefly a story his father had told him about boggarts when he was young. This was during James’ first year as an Auror, and someone called about a robbery. James arrived, only to see that several boggarts had made themselves at home in the witch’s closets and dressers. James was laughing when he told Harry that was the most snakes he had ever seen in one day. “Then! With one wave of my wand, all the snakes became balloons! And they all went _phhhhhhhhhhfffff_ ” Harry chuckled as he remembered his father imitating a deflating balloon, which caused the five year old Harry to burst out laughing.

“—and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice. So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what _is_ a boggart?”

Hermione’s hand shot up. “It’s a shape-shifter,” she said. “It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Professor Lupin said, and Hermione glowed. “So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.

“This mean,” Professor Lupin said, choosing to ignore Neville’s small sputter of terror, “that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it Harry?”

“Err— ‘cause there’s so many of us,” Harry said, “it won’t know what shape it should be.”

“Precisely!” Professor Lupin said. “It’s always best to have company when you’re dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. Now, does anyone know what really finishes a boggart?”

Harry found his hand in the air. “Harry?” Professor Lupin said.

“Laughter,” Harry said, his mind going back to the snakes-turned-balloons.

“Correct Harry,” Professor Lupin said. “Laughter! What you need to do is force the boggart to assume a shape that you find amusing. We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please … _riddikulus_!”

“Riddikulus!” the class said together.

“Good, very good. But that was the easy part, I’m afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in Neville.”

The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he were heading for the gallows. Harry watched as Professor Lupin asked Neville what scared him most. Neville admitted it was Professor Snape and everyone laughed. During that laughter, Harry felt a body brush up behind him, and a familiar male voice whispered, “After class… room next to this one. We need to talk Harry.”

Harry turned his head around, but only saw the crowd of students behind him, all of whom were focusing on Neville. Harry looked for Zabini, who was standing with Malfoy. Zabini smirked at Harry and gave a small nod. Malfoy looked at Zabini confused, but shrugged it off, turning his attention back to Longbottom, a malicious smirk appearing on his face.

Harry turned his attention back to Neville as well. There was more laughter as Professor Lupin-Black said that if Neville was successful, the boggart Professor Snape will be forced into Neville’s grandmother’s clothing.

“If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn,” Professor Lupin-Black said. “I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical. …”

The room went quiet. Harry thought about what feared him most. His first thought was You-Know-Who—a Voldemort returned to full strength. But before he had even started to plan a possible counterattack, a horrible image came floating to the surface of his mind. …

A rotting, glistening hand, slithering back beneath a black cloak… a long, rattling breath from an unseen mouth…then a cold so penetrating it felt like drowning. …

Harry shivered, then looked around, hoping no one had noticed. Many people had their eyes shut tight.

“Ready Everyone? Neville… on the count of three. One…two…three!”

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin-Black’s wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe bust open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville. Neville’s arms shook as he aimed his wand at the boggart. “ _R—r—riddikulus_!” Neville squeaked.

There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he wsa wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag. There was a roar of laughter as Professor Black-Lupin called for the next student to step up. Parvati stepped forward and there was another crack. Snape turned into a bloodied mummy. “ _Riddikulus!_ ” Parvati yelled. The bandage unraveled at the mummy’s feet; it became entangled and fell face forward.

Seamus came next, and the mummy turned into a woman with floor-length black hair, and a skeletal, green-tinged face—a banshee. Seamus yelled “ _Riddikulus!_ ” and the banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone. Crack! The banshee turned into a rat which chased its tail; a snake which slithered and withered before becoming a single, bloody eyeball. Dean stepped up and the eyeball turned into a severed hand, who crept around the floor. Dean casted the spell, and the hand became trapped in a mousetrap.

Harry was next. The boggart rolled towards him before another loud _crack!_ sound and the hand became the dementor. Harry immediately felt the drowning coldness gripping his heart. His wand was aimed at the dementor but he could not give voice to the spell. There was a shallow sucking sound, and once again Harry heard the female voice yelling his name.

“HERE!” Lupin yelled, jumping in front of Harry. The dementor immediately turned into a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin-Black. “ _Riddikulus!_ ” he said almost lazily. The orb exploded, burst into a thousand tiny whips of smoke, and was gone.

“Excellent, everyone,” Professor Lupin-Black said. “Well done everyone. … Let’s see … five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the boggart—ten for Neville for going first, and ten points to Harry and five for Hermione.”

Harry still felt the remains of the coldness as Lupin gave them their homework assignment. The icy feeling had subsided significantly as Harry left the staffroom. He was near the back with Ron and Hermione and said, “I think I left something back in there. I’ll meet up with you guys later.”

“Alright, see you Harry,” Ron said. Harry nodded and waited till Ron and Hermione were nearly out of sight before he went to the room next to the staffroom, which turned out to be a small, abandoned classroom.

As he suspected, Zabini was already there, sitting on the teacher’s desk waiting for Harry. “Close the door please?” Zabini asked.

Harry did as he was told, and turned towards Zabini. “What do you want Zabini?” he asked the Slytherin.

He smirked and hopped off the desk. “Did you know, that you smell like apples and cinnamon? Is it a special shampoo you use? Or is it natural, Harry?”

Harry didn’t know how to respond. “What?” he said.

Blaise just chuckled and shook his head. “You’re so cute Harry,” Zabini said, irritating Harry.

“Stop calling me that Zabini,” Harry said, taking a step back as Zabini walked up to him. “What do you want?” he demanded again.

“Told you Harry, I want to be your friend, but that can’t happen if you keep glaring at me like that,” Zabini said softly.

Harry sighed and debated if Zabini was telling the truth. Zabini stayed where he was, waiting quietly as he did so. Then, finally, Harry opened his mouth and softly said, “Sorry.”

Zabini smiled a genuine smile and said, “That’s fine Harry. … Shall we start this all over? I’m Blaise Zabini.”

Zabini offered his hand, and Harry stared at if for a short moment before taking it. “Harry Potter,” he said.

Blaise smiled and gripped Harry’s hand tightly. “So Harry, did you figure out what I was talking about last time?”

“…about how you, me, and Malfoy are the same?” Harry asked. Blaise nodded. “No. I can’t think of anything how I’m similar to that prat! Not that I want to be, after what happened. I mean, I cleaned his wound, I tried to be his friend and he spat it all in my face!”

Blaise sighed and shook his head, “Listen Harry, I know Draco can be a huge prat… but if you want to be friends with him, you have to stick to it.”

“Why?” Harry demanded, asking a bit too roughly. When he realized his tone he flinched a little and muttered another sorry.

Blaise just laughed and smiled. “It’s alright Harry, it’s alright. And well… Draco’s under a lot of pressure from his father, Lucius Malfoy. As the sole heir of the Malfoy fortune, Draco has a lot to live up to, and his father is breathing down his neck to keep him on the straight and narrow.”

“Let me guess, Malfoy has a plan for Draco that he has to follow, even if he doesn’t tell him?” Harry asked, frowning when he realized their similarity.

Blaise nodded, “Exactly. How’d you know?”

“My dad has the same thing for me,” Harry admitted. “Get into Gryffindors, make best friends, join the Quidditch team and marry a nice girl. Never said it explicitly, but I can feel his pressure. It’s like I have this pain inside me when I don’t do something my dad wants.”

“That’s a bit how Draco explained it,” Blaise said. “Expect it was obvious he was going to be a Slytherin.”

“Did you know… that the Sorting Hat considered me to be in Slytherin?” Harry asked, not knowing why he felt like sharing this fact.

“Really?” Blaise smirked. “So, not only do you smell lovely, but you were going to be a snake as well?”

“Yeah… scared me when it said it. Begged the hat to put me in anything else,” Harry chuckled. “So… Gryffindor.”

“Gryffindor,” Blaise nodded.

“Funny thing though, I can’t bring myself to hate my dad,” Harry said. “I mean, it’s just me and him. Has been ever since… you know,”—Blaise nodded and Harry continued—“Dad’s not a bad guy! He really isn’t. I mean, he taught me how to play Quidditch, and everything I needed to know. He even taught me how to clean wounds and was always there to comfort me when I was sad or angry or lonely. …He was always there for me… I love him, but now… it’s too much yeah? I mean, he told me that all Slytherins were all slimly evil gits—“

Blaise snickered.

“—but you don’t seem that way. And he told me to stay away from Professor Lupin-Black, but so far he seems the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we ever had!” Harry said.

Blaise nodded and said, “So you want to rebel against Daddy dearest… is that the only reason why you’re talking to me Harry?” He frowned with mock hurt in his eyes.

“What—no! I’m talking to you because you just seem so…” Harry didn’t know how to finish that sentence so he asked, “What about you Blaise? Eh? Any family problems like me and Malfoy?”

“Nope, mother loves me, I love mother, mother tells me to do whatever I want with myself and I agree,” Blaise said. “Seems to be working so far… But Draco, that’s a different story. His dad, and I know it’s not my place to say here, but his dad seems a bit distant from Draco. I mean, it’s always his mum sending letters and sweets to him. The last time I saw Draco talking with his father was a very short ‘goodbye’ on the platform. Beside from that, nothing.” Blaise shrugged, “So I can’t tell you how he feels ‘bout his dad. But I know that he feels pressured by him. I mean, he talks about the bloke so much, he just got to. Father this, father that, Father will be mad... I’m sure you can get the picture.”

“So how will this help me befriend Dr—Malfoy?” Harry asked. Blaise smiled and said, “You were supposed to be in Slytherin? I bet he would love to hear that. As for what else… I’m sure you can think of a few things to talk about. Oh, and don’t worry about his venom? When he warms up to you, he’s practically harmless.”

“Err… thanks Blaise… I guess… I’ll try ‘em next time Malfoy gets scratched and ends up in the hospital wing,” Harry said. Blaise laughed.

“But seriously Harry, if you want to befriend Draco, just… tough out his insults. I promise you there is a softie underneath the ‘Ice Prince of Slytherin’ persona,” Blaise smiled.

“Thanks Blaise… I think I’ll do that,” Harry said.

“Awesome! Then we should be going,” Blaise said. “I’m sure you told a horrible lie to Weasley and Granger that could only account for a short time. Come on Harry, let’s go.”

Harry nodded and followed Blaise out of the classroom. They walked down the corridor together, and Harry couldn’t help but notice how close he was to the Slytherin. He could feel a warm glow from the boy, and he liked it. A smile graced his face as he unconsciously inched closer to the Slytherin as they walked in comfortable silence. They parted ways near Professor Lupin-Black’s classroom, Harry heading towards Gryffindor Tower and Blaise heading towards the Slytherin Dungeon.

Harry was still smiling lazily when he turned a corner and stopped suddenly. There, in front of him, was George Weasley and another boy. Harry couldn’t see the boy’s features, but Harry was positive that it was a boy, from his wide frames and muscles. George was the same height as the boy, and Harry watched, shocked and excited as George’s hand moved towards the boy’s face and pulled him closer until—they were kissing!

Harry gasped softly as he watched George and the boy. George seemed to be enjoying it as his hands moved around the other boy’s body, wrapping around chest as the boy’s hand lowered to his waist, grazing the top of his butt. Harry’s face turned scarlet red, he knew he was invading in something private, yet he couldn’t look away as George and the unknown boy kissed. It was enchanting, almost hypnotic to Harry as he watched. For some reason his body started to tense up and his pants seemed all too tight. That never happened before, and Harry started to panic and give away his position when George made a high-pitched squeak. Harry focused and saw that the boy was now kissing George’s neck. George made a weird sound, like a yawn but it was higher, as the boy kept kissing his neck.

“Ahh—not too rough,” George said. The boy just chuckled before kissing him again. They spun in a half circle, and George’s eyes widened when he saw Harry. Harry, tight-pants and red-faced finally seemed to have gained the use of his legs again as he turned and ran, which seemed to become immensely harder with his private part grown.

He ran back towards the Gryffindor Tower and said the password to the Fat Lady, who only raised an eyebrow at his appearance. Harry tried to walk calmly inside the common room and looked around, relieved that Hermione and Ron weren’t there.

“Harry!” George said, entering just behind Harry. “Harry—don’t run,” George said. Harry turned around and stared at him. “We need to talk,” George said.

Harry just nodded and followed George as they went to the boy’s dormitories. They entered the fifth year dormitories, and Harry followed George as they apparently headed towards his bed. “Harry… what did you see?”

“I saw you and another boy kissing,” Harry said, looking up at George. “And it made me feel… weird.”

“How weird?”

“My heart started to race and my pants… my pants—“ Harry’s face became red again, thinking about that.

“It’s okay, I get the picture. I guess you know what I am now?” George said.

“Like Professor Lupin-Black?” Harry asked.

George chuckled and nodded, “Yeah. Though, we’re called gay. It’s when a person of one sex falls in love with a person of the same sex, or at least is attracted to them.”

“So you… and that guy…?”

“Are gay, yes. Does that matter to you Harry?” George asked softly. Harry looked up at him and frowned. “I don’t know… I didn’t know that was—was possible till today.”

“That’s okay,” George said. “Take all the time you need to make an opinion. Do you have any questions?”

Harry looked at him, his head suddenly filled with all sorts of questions he wanted to ask. He did not know which one to ask first. So instead he asked, “Umm how did… how did you know that umm…”

“I was gay?” George asked. Harry nodded.

“Well, around when I was your age, I started to look more at the guys than girls,” George said. “And when I jerk off, it was guys I was picturing.”

“Jerk off?” Harry asked confused.

George looked at him and laughed lightly, “You are too innocent!” he said. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll discover that on your own. Anyway, I was noticing more things about boys than girls.”

“Like what?” Harry asked.

“Well, the way they looks, the way they stood, small details that other guys would never notice,” George said. Harry felt a knot in his stomach, realizing that George was describing exactly what he was noticing. Could it be that he was gay like George? Harry was afraid to ask about that, he was afraid to even think about that.

“Why? Is that what you are noticing?” George asked softly. Harry looked up shocked, wondering if George was reading his mind. Slowly, Harry blushed and nodded. George smiled and said, “Don’t say anything. Just take your time yeah? Don’t need to make any commitment now. Alright?”

“Yeah… thanks,” Harry said, feeling relieved. George nodded and a familiar playful smirk appeared on his face. “Excellent. Now, how bout we head down to dinner? I’m starving! And Harry, you know that you can come to me for anything right?”

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“Good,” George said. “Now let’s go.”

George and Harry went down to the Great Hall, their conversation thankfully being turned from their serious talk to Quidditch. George was telling Harry how much Wood is pumped for their first match. “We’re going up against Hufflepuff first,” George said. “Got to say, I’m a bit more excited for this match too.”

“Why?”

“Got a bet going,” George said smirking at Harry. “If we win, I also win three Galleons.”

Harry laughed and George joined him. “Then I’ll make sure to get the Snitch in record time.”

George laughed and agreed. Harry smiled again and started to feel excited about the Quidditch match as well. It was true that he liked watching Quidditch more than playing it, but if it was with his friends… he couldn’t resist a friendly game of Quidditch. And listening to George’s excitement for the game made him excited. He wondered if Blaise would be on the Slytherin team, then it would feel exactly like a friendly game, and not at all like a professional game like it had during the past two years.

When they reached the Great Hall, students were still filtering in with them. Ron and Hermione were already there, and when Harry sat with them, Ron asked “What took you so long? Hermione and I were waiting in the common room.”

“Ran into George,” Harry said, lying easily. “We had a talk.”

Ron accepted the response and began spewing about Professor Lupin-Black’s lesson. “Did you see the spider fall? It just had roller skates and then it just fell!” he laughed. Harry laughed with him. “Strange though that he jumped in front of yours,” Ron continued.

“But it makes sense,” Hermione said. “I mean, it was a dementor. Hard to make a dementor funny.” Harry nodded, frowning when he remembered hearing the woman’s screams again. He couldn’t help but wonder why the dementor affected him so much more than the others. He looked up at the staff table, where Professor Lupin-Black sat eating. His eyes turned again towards the Slytherin Table, first to his new friend Blaise, who was talking to Malfoy. When his eyes fell on Malfoy, a weird feeling occurred in his gut. He couldn’t understand the feeling at all, it wasn’t hatred, or anger. It was something that Harry never experienced before. It was as if a thousand butterflies decided to take wing in his body, upsetting every organ and inch of him, and yet his heart seemed to be immune. His heart, though at first felt like it skipped a beat, felt extremely warm as he stared at the Ice Prince. It felt almost calm, Harry couldn’t quite explain it, but just looking at Malfoy, when he is not glaring nor sneering at Harry, he could see how handsome the boy is.

As if on cue, Blaise looked over at the Gryffindor table and smiled at Harry. Harry gave a smile and small wave back before the Slytherin returned his attention Malfoy. Maybe having a Slytherin for a friend wouldn’t be as horrible as his father told him. Maybe he was wrong, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder if his father was wrong about Slytherins, could he be wrong about Professor Lupin-Black? Whatever the answer, Harry was determined to find out by himself. For now though… Harry thought about what to write about in his letter to his father at the end of the week. He knew he would definitely include the boggart, and maybe a sentence or two about Blaise, avoiding the fact he is a Slytherin, naturally.


	5. Getting Closer

Chapter 5

Getting Closer

The next morning, Harry woke up to a long letter from his dad.

_Harry,_

_You must know how hard I am fighting to come to Hogwarts immediately. A dementor!? Your boggart is the most dangerous dark creature in the world! I cannot see how you can make a dementor funny, maybe making its robes white with red polka-dots but still. I am happy that your professor jumped in front of you when the dementor-boggart came, believe me I know how much a dementor can affect you. Sorry bout that, seems you got that from me. But, I know that the next time, if there is one, you can take care of that boggart! After all, you are the best son in the world! (Whose dad is the best Auror in the world Haha!!) I’m happy that you finally have a professor who knows his stuff, I really am, it’s just I wish that it was someone different from him. But hey, enough about that!_

_So, you must tell me all about this Blaise guy. He sounds like a great guy, and I say go for that friendship! By the way you describe him, it seems like you already like him so why not? Though, it doesn’t matter I would like to know his last name… Not that it matters, just would like to know your new friend’s name. And what house is he in? Sounds like a Ravenclaw if you ask me, but again I just want to know. Man… can’t believe I’m getting excited for you getting a new friend. It’s like that time when you were five and I took you to that muggle shop to get Snuffles here! Remember?_

_Miss you Harry, but I’m really happy everything’s seem to be working out._

_Love,_

_Dad_

Harry smiled at the letter. At least his he has his father’s approval with Blaise, even if he doesn’t know that Blaise is a Slytherin. “What are you grinning about Harry?” Ron asked as he and Hermione sat down on either side of him at the Gryffindor Table.

“Letter from dad,” Harry said. “He’s happy with Professor Lupin-Black, I think. Says that he’s glad we finally have someone who knows their stuff.”

“Me too,” Ron agreed, and it seemed to be the popular opinion in the school.

In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become most people’s favorite class. Only Draco Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins had anything bad to say about Professor Lupin-Black. But Harry noticed that Malfoy’s insults were less hurtful than the others, his comments getting either a glare or nudge in the shoulders by Blaise.

No one cared about the insults the Slytherins could think of, however. His next few lessons were just as interesting as the first. After boggarts, they studied Red Caps, nasty little goblinlike creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed. From Red Caps they moved on to kappas, creepy water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting wades in their ponds.

Harry wished that his other classes would be as good as Professor Lupin-Black’s. He was growing to dread the hours he spent in Professor Trelawney’s stifling tower room, deciphering lopsided shapes and symbols, trying to ignore the way Professor Trelawney’s enormous eyes filled with tears every time she looked at him. He couldn’t like the professor, even though she was treated with respect bordering on reverence by many of the class. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had taken to haunting Professor Trelawney’s tower room at lunchtimes, and always returned with annoyingly superior looks on their faces, as though they knew things the others didn’t. They had also started using hushed voices whenever they spoke to Harry, as though he were on his deathbed.

One of the only good things about Care of Magical Creatures, Harry thought, was that it gave him and Blaise a chance to talk to each other without anyone noticing. The class had become extremely dull after the first action-packed class, and though it hurt Harry’s heart to take advantage of Hagrid’s lost of confidence, he and Blaise barely had any time to speak at all.

At the start of October, Quidditch season was approaching again. Oliver Wood called a meeting one Thursday evening to discuss tactics for the new season. Oliver Wood was a burly sixteen year old, and Harry’s Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. He was in his next to last year, and had been captain ever since Harry joined the Quidditch team in his first year. There was a sort of desperation in his voice as he addressed his six fellow team members in the chilly locker rooms on the edge of the darkening Quidditch field. Harry noticed that his eyes kept on lingering towards the Weasley Twins, who were both leaning against the lockers.

“This is our last chance to win the Quidditch Cup,” he told them, striding up and down in front of them. “Gryffindor hasn’t won for seven years now. Okay, so we’ve had the worst luck in the world—injuries—then the tournament getting called off last year. …” Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump in his throat. Harry couldn’t help but stare at him, noting his muscles and the way his neck moved when he swallowed. “But we also know we’ve got the _best—ruddy—team—in—the—school_ ,” he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye. Harry’s cheeks became rosy.

“We’ve got three superb Chasers.”

Wood pointed at Alicia Spinner, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell.

“We’ve got two unbeatable Beaters.”

“Stop it Oliver, you’re embarrassing us,” Fred and George said together, pretending to blush. Harry could have sworn he saw Wood wink at them.

“And we’ve got a Seeker who has _never failed to win us a match!_ ” Wood rumbled, glaring at Harry with a kind of furious pride. “And me,” he added as an afterthought.

“And we think you’re very good too, Oliver,” George said.

“Spanking good Keeper,” Fred said.

“The point is,” Wood went on, resuming his pacing, “the Quidditch Cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry joined the team, I’ve thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven’t got it, and this year’s the last chance we’ll get to finally see our name on the thing…”

Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic.

“Oliver, this year’s our year!” George said.

“We’ll do it Oliver!” Angelina said.

“Definitely,” Harry said.

Filled with determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a week. During these sessions, Harry noticed that Wood would stay near the twins, barking orders at them, and making sure that they do everything perfect. Wood seems to be extra hard on George, Harry seemed to notice, as he always talked to George personally or had his eyes on the twin when addressing them both.

During the weeks that followed, Harry and Blaise continued to become closer, starting to share childhood stories whenever they met in the empty classrooms. One evening, Blaise walked in with a smirk. “What would you say if I can make you and Draco some personal time?”

Harry looked at him shocked. “Me and Draco alone in a room?” he asked. Ever since the Buckbeak incident, he wanted to talk to Malfoy alone, but never had the chance. Whenever he would try to even suggest it, Crabbe and Goyle would block his way and Malfoy would softly glare at him. “How did you even get him away from Crabbe and Goyle?”

“Easy, Draco and I are best friends,” Blaise shrugged. He smiled at Harry and moved the next he was sitting on next to Harry’s. Harry became suddenly aware of how close his body was to Blaise’s. Blaise smiled and took in a deep breath. “What do you do Harry? You always smell like apples and cinnamon.”

“Stop it!” Harry blushed, pushing Blaise away from him. Blaise laughed and smiled at him. “So Potter, did you figure it out yet?”

“Figure what out?” Harry asked, confused.

Blaise smiled and took a step closer to Harry. “How we’re all the same, Harry,” he said. “You… me and Draco. There is just one special thing that we all have in common. Even if all of us haven’t figured it out yet.”

Harry frowned at Blaise. He tried thinking about what they all had in common, but school work and now Quidditch Practice distracted him. He quickly tried to think of something, anything, so he said, “After our first err meeting, I ran into something.”

“What was it Harry?” Blaise asked.

“Well… will you promise me that you won’t tell anyone?” Harry asked. Blaise nodded, so Harry said, “I ran into George, err George Weasley, and he was kissing a guy.”

“Really?” Blaise smiled, looking at Harry with great interest. “Did it make you feel any different?”

Harry blushed and looked down. “I don’t know how to describe it. My heart started pounding, my head started swimming and my—you know, it umm started to grow.”

Blaise chuckled and said, “You are so cute Harry. So innocent. What you described was perfectly normal. It’s called an erection.”

“What!” Harry said, his cheeks going red. “Blaise, I don’t want this conversation.”

“But it’ll be better to hear it from me, trust me,” Blaise said.

“How do you know all this stuff anyway?” Harry demanded.

Blaise shrugged and smirked at Harry. “Draco taught me.”

“Malfoy…” Harry said softly. He stood up from his desk and walked towards the teacher’s desk. He breathed deeply and looked at Blaise. “Alright… what’s an erection?”

“It’s when your penis gets hard,” Blaise said. “It shows that you’re very happy in a… special way.”

“Special?” Harry asked, frowning slightly. “But it happened when I saw George and a boy kissing. It make me feel… weird-like. George saw me and talked with me afterwards. He said he was gay. He asked me if I thought I was gay as well after that and…”

“And what?”

“I didn’t know how to answer it,” Harry admitted. Blaise nodded and strolled towards Harry. He leaned against the teacher’s desk, but kept a respectable distance. “And now?” he asked.

Harry frowned. He did not know how to answer. It was true that he noticed more about guys then girls, and just remembering George’s and the boy’s kiss stirred his penis. “I don’t know…” he said honestly.

“Well, how about this?” Blaise asked, moving to sit down next to Harry. He gently took Harry’s hand in his and brought it up between their heads. Harry watched uncertain as Blaise brought his hand closer to his head. “How does it feel?” Blaise breathed, his breath hitting Harry’s cold white skin. Harry gasped as he watched Blaise bend down and kiss his hand. His stomach turned, his head started to feel light again as his body reacted positively to the kiss. A smile graced his face as Blaise looked up at Harry, a small smile.

“I… I like it,” Harry admitted, his hand curling around Blaise’s. Blaise smiled and said, “Good. So my cute Gryffindor, have you found out?”

“How we’re all the same?” Harry asked. Blaise nodded. “I think so… we’re all gay. You, me and Malfoy… we all like boys.”

“Exactly Harry!” Blaise grinned. His arm moved to wrap around Harry’s shoulders. “I’m gay. Knew ever since I was ten. Draco’s gay as well, and now you figured it out.”

Harry blushed and nodded. “I’m gay,” he said more confidently. “I am gay.” Repeating it, it was as if the world suddenly made sense to Harry. He likes boys, he is gay, just as Blaise, George and Malfoy. He smiled at Blaise and said, “Thanks…”

“No problem Harry,” Blaise said. He led the Gryffindor away from the teacher’s desk and towards the closed door. “Harry… now I think I can ask you this.”

“W-What is it Blaise?” Harry asked.

“I want to be with you,” Blaise said. “Outside the classrooms. I want your friendship to be out in the open. … Can it be?”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly. “I want that too.”

“Great!” Blaise smiled. He opened the door for Harry and the two walked through. The corridor was empty and Harry turned to Blaise as the Slytherin’s arm moved from his shoulders. “I have to talk to George,” Harry said seriously. “I’ll see you later.”

“Right, see you Harry,” Blaise smiled. He watched as Harry turned and ran down the corridor. Blaise smirked, feeling really good about himself as he casually walked back towards the Slytherin Dungeons. When he entered the Slytherin Common room, he saw Draco in his personal seat by the fireplace, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him as he worked through his homework. “Hey Draco!” Blaise said as he walked towards him.

Crabbe and Goyle stood up and blocked his view of Draco, their arms crossed. Blaise rolled his eyes and said, “Can you get the squibs out of the way?”

“Move,” Draco said lazily, not looking up from his homework. The two looked at each other, before moving out of the way, allowing Blaise to approach his best friend. “Want to talk with you alone Draco,” he said, sitting down next to Draco.

Draco looked up from his assignment and looked at Crabbe and Goyle. “Leave us,” he said. The two waited till Crabbe and Goyle left through the stairs and he turned to Blaise. “What is it?” he asked.

Blaise smirked and said, “Did you know that Harry Potter smells of apples and cinnamon? And when he blushes, his ears turn a bright red?”

Draco stopped writing and glared at his friend. “Why are you telling me this? Why are you even near Potter? Haven’t I told you he is _mine_?”

Blaise shrugged and said, “You weren’t making a move. Besides, he’s free game. He just came out to himself today. In front of me. His friend.”

Draco continued to glare at his friend. “Blaise,” he said his voice deep and icy. “What are you trying to do?”

Blaise just smirked and laughed. “Well, since you’re too busy being a prick to the poor boy, I decided to show him how _nice_ we can be. And besides, I’m starting to like the boy. He is really cute, you know.” Draco continued to glare at his friend, anger and jealousy clear in his eyes. “Well Draco … if you want a shot at Harry, I guess I could take a step back.”

“You better Zabini,” Draco said. Blaise just smiled at his friend and said, “Of course Draco. We’re going to meet the day before Hogsmeade in the classroom on the second floor. You go in my stead, and try and have a civil conversation with him. He really does want to be your friend.”

“Friend,” Draco said. “ _Potter_ wants to be my friend?” He couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Harry isn’t his father, Draco. You should know plenty about that,” Blaise frowned. That earned Blaise a sharp look from his friend. “Look, just give the boy a chance alright? He deserves it.”

“Whatever,” Draco shrugged. Blaise took that in a positive light and looked down at what Draco was writing. “So, working on McGonagall’s essay?”

Draco just glanced at his friend for the abrupt topic change and nodded. “Yeah, been working on it for an hour.”

“Going to let the squibs copy off of you?” Blaise smirked.

“Of course not!” Draco said. “They’re stupid enough to suffer through this.” Blaise chuckled and relaxed into his seat. “So, ready for Quidditch?”

Harry found George and Fred with their friend Lee Jordon in a small courtyard, talking in hushed tones. “George… I need to tell you something. It’s… important,” he said when he walked up to them.

The three of them looked up and Fred said, “Hiya Harry, what you need?”

“Umm I need to tell George something… but maybe it’ll be better if I tell you too,” Harry said, looking at Fred and Lee. George nodded understandingly and said with a knowing smile, “What you want to say Harry?”

Harry took a deep breath and looked at the twins. “Fred… George… I’m gay,” Harry said, his confidence slowly growing in himself. He let out a smile and said, “I’m gay.”

George gave a smile while Fred held a playful smirk. Lee just looked at him and said, “Congrats mate.”

“Thanks Harry, I know how difficult this could be,” George said.

“Yeah! Now I have two gay guys to tease,” Fred said lightheartedly. “We the first ones you told?”

“Umm yeah…” Harry admitted. “You guys are the first ones… except for the guy who helped me realize.”

Fred smirked and opened his mouth, but George covered it with his hand. “So Harry, are you ready to tell Ron and Hermione? Or you think it’s too soon?”

“I think I’ll wait… I’m still processing it myself. I just wanted you to know,” Harry said, looking a bit bashful. “Where are they anyway?”

“Back in the Common Room,” George said. Harry nodded and waved them goodbye, feeling excellent about himself. He just came out for the second time in front of four people in total, and he and Blaise agreed to be open about their friendship! The day couldn’t have gone any better if he planned it. On his way back to Gryffindor Tower, he decided that yes, he will wait to tell Ron and Hermione. Until then, he’ll just have to act like nothing changed, because honestly nothing has.

Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold and stiff but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing excitedly. “What’s happened?” he asked Ron and Hermione, who were sitting in two of the best chairs by the fireside and completing some star charts for Astronomy.

“First Hogsmeade weekend,” Ron said, pointing at a notice that had appeared on the battered old bulletin board. “End of October. Halloween.”

Harry threw himself into a chair beside Ron, his high spirits ebbing away. Hermione seemed to read his mind.

“Harry, I’m sure you’ll be able to go next time,” she said. “I’m sure your dad will change your mind once the dementors are gone.”

“Ask McGonagall if you can go this time, Harry,” Ron said. “The next one might not be for ages—“

“Ron!” Hermione said. “Harry’s supposed to stay in school—“

“He can’t be the only third year left behind,” Ron said. “Ask McGonagall, go on, Harry—“

“Yeah, I think I will,” Harry said, making up his mind.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but at that moment Crookshanks leapt lightly onto her lap. A large, dead spider was dangling from his mouth.

“Does he have to eat that in front of us?” Ron said, scowling.

“Clever Crookshanks, did you catch that all by yourself?” Hermione said.

Crookshanks slowly chewed up the spider, his yellow eyes fixed insolently on Ron.

“Just keep him over there, that’s all,” Ron said irritably, turning back to his star chart. “I’ve got Scabbers asleep in my bag.”

“You know,” Harry yawned. “Snuffles used to catch spiders and insects like that too.” He really wanted to go to bed, but he still had his own star chart to complete. He pulled his bag toward him, took out parchment, ink, and quill, and started work.

Ron offered Harry his work to copy, which Hermione disapproved of but didn’t say anything, instead just pursing her lips. Crookshanks was still staring unblinkingly at Ron, flicking the end of his bushy tail. Then, without warning, he pounced.

“Oy!” Ron roared, seizing his bag as Crookshanks sank four sets of claws deep inside it and began tearing ferociously. “Get off, you stupid animal!”

Ron tried to pull the bag away from Crookshanks, but Crookshanks clung on, spitting and slashing.

“Ron, don’t hurt him!” Hermione squealed; the whole common room was watching; Ron shirled the bag around, Crookshanks still clinging to it, and Scabbers came flying out of the top. Ron yelled as Crookshanks freed himself from the remnants of the bag, sprang over the table, and chased after the terrified Scabbers.

Scabbers streaked through twenty pairs of legs and shot beneath an old chest of drawers. Crookshanks skidded to a half, crouched low on his bandy legs, and started making furious swipes beneath it with his front paw. Ron and Hermione hurried over, Hermione grabbed Crookshanks around the middle and heaved him away; Ron threw himself onto his stomach and, with great difficulty, pulled Scabbers out by the tail.

“Look at him!” he said furiously to Hermione, dangling Scabbers in front of her. “He’s skin and bone! You keep that cat away from him!”

“Crookshanks doesn’t understand it’s wrong!” Hermione said, her voice shaking. “All cats cases rats, Ron!”

“True!” Harry called in, looking up from his stars chart. “Dad calls Snuffles our big rat killer. Though he finally taught him to stop presenting the dead rats to us when he…” He looked at Ron’s horrified face and stopped talking.

Ron just glared at Crookshanks and said, “That cat’s got it in for Scabbers!” He ignored the people around him, who were starting to giggle. “And Scabbers was here first, _and_ he’s ill!”

Ron marched through the common room and out of sight up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories. He was still angry at Hermione the next day, barely talking to her throughout Herbology even though he, Hermione, and Harry were standing at the same table. They had Transfiguration next. Harry, who had resolved to ask Professor McGonagall after the lesson whether he could go into Hogsmeade with the rest, joined the line outside the class trying to decide how he was going to argue his case.

There was a disturbance, but he paid it no mind as Lavender Brown mourned for her dead rabbit. To make his case look best, Harry tried extra hard during Transfiguration, trying to be as a perceptive and attentive as Hermione. Harry still hadn’t decided what he was going to say to Professor McGonagall when the bell rang at the end of the lesson, but it was she who brought up the subject of Hogsmeade first.

“One moment please!” she called as the class made to leave. “As you’re all in my House, you should hand Hogsmeade permission forms to me before Halloween. No form, no visiting the village, so don’t forget!”

Neville put his hand. “Please, Professor, I—I think I’ve lost—“

“Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Longbottom,” Professor McGonagall said. “She seemed to think it was safer. Well, that’s all, you may leave.”

“Ask her now,” Ron hissed at Harry.

“Oh, but—“ Hermione began.

Harry waited for the rest of the class to disappear, then headed nervously for Professor McGonagall’s desk.

“Yes, Potter?”

Harry took a deep breath. “Professor, my dad—er—forgot to sign my form,” he said.

Professor McGonagall looked over her square spectacles at him but didn’t say anything.

“So—er—d’you think it would be all right—I mean, will it be okay if I—if I go to Hogsmeade?”

Professor McGonagall looked down and began shuffling papers on her desk. “I’m afraid not, Potter,” she said. “You heard what I said. No form, no visiting the village. That’s the rule.” She stood up and piled her papers neatly into a drawer. “The form clearly states that the parent or guardian must give permission.” She turned to look at him, with an odd expression on her face. Was it pity? “I’m sorry, Potter, but that’s my final word. You had better hurry, or you’ll be late for your next lesson.”

 There was nothing to be done. Ron called Professor McGonagall a lot of names that greatly annoyed Hermione; Hermione assumed an “all-for-the-best” expression that made Ron even angrier, and Harry had to endure everyone in the class talking loudly and happily about what they were going to do first, once they get into Hogsmeade.

Harry and Blaise did not get any chance to hang out in public, the only time the two talked was for Blaise to tell Harry about his and Malfoy’s meeting on the day before Halloween. So, Harry’s mood was only slightly lifted as he thought about their eventual meeting. At least he had one thing to look forward to.

On the day of their meeting, Harry waited inside the classroom on the second floor. He was feeling nervous as he waited, pacing back and forth. He was both anticipating and dreading the door opening. His heart was pounding, a blush graced his face for the last ten minutes, and felt a gigantic lump in his throat.

Then, quite suddenly, the door opened and Harry jumped in surprise. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, without his usual followers Crabbe and Goyle. This was the first time Harry had a clear look at the Malfoy heir and the lump in his throat softened slightly. Somehow he felt calmer as Malfoy walked in, as if the temperature of the room cooled down immediately as Malfoy closed the door behind him.

The Ice Prince was tall, Harry was certain that the top of his head could only brush Malfoy’s chin. Harry watched as Malfoy strutted toward him, stopping only five feet away. “Potter,” Malfoy said.

“Malfoy,” Harry replied, the knot in his voice making it uncharacteristically high. Malfoy looked around, his silver eyes trying to look anywhere but Harry. “Err,” Harry said, not knowing what to say. “I guess Blaise told you about our meeting…”

“Yes, he did,” Malfoy said shortly. “He also told me many other things.”

“W-What?” Harry said, worried about what his friend might have told Malfoy. “What things?”

“For one,” Malfoy said, walking forward towards Harry. He grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled the boy closer to him. He was right, his head barely touched Malfoy’s chin. “Blaise told me that you smell of apples and cinnamon. … And it seems he’s right,” Malfoy smirked, taking in a deep breath next to Harry’s ear.

Harry breathed sharply and stepped back from Malfoy. Malfoy just smirked and crossed his arms. “Why am I here Potter?”

“I just… wanted us to talk,” Harry said.

“Talk?” Malfoy asked. “And why should we talk, Potter?”

“I… I just wanted to know you,” Harry said.

“Potter, we’ve known each other for two full years.”

“I know but I want to know you… like how Blaise knows you… I don’t know how to say it,” Harry said in irritation. “It’s just my mind is a jumbled mess and in the center is just you. You’re everything my dad hates. A Slytherin, a Malfoy, a pompous ass, and yet… I… don’t… hate … you. …Even though you’re a massive prat.”

Malfoy smirked at Harry. “A pompous ass? Is that how you think of me Potter?”

“No! … Yes… I don’t know!” Harry said. “I know what my dad says about your family, and I know your reputation of the school, and I definitely know how you act in front of others but…” Harry stopped, trying to pick his words carefully. Malfoy simply leaned against the nearest desk, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “But…” Harry said again, “but I don’t think any of those are the real you.”

“And what is the real me Potter?” Malfoy asked.

“That’s who I want to know,” Harry said, remembering something that Blaise had told him. “You’re a softie… under the ‘Ice Prince of Slytherin’ persona…”

“Excuse me!?” Malfoy said, looking insulted.

“That’s what Blaise said!” Harry said quickly. “He said that I should tough out your insults and you’ll warm up to me… and that your venom is umm harmless.”

“Blaise said that?” Malfoy chuckled. He smirked at Harry and sat on a desk. “Alright Potter, what do you want to talk about?”

Harry stared at Malfoy shocked. He never even imagined that he and Malfoy would actually be talking civilly “What! Well umm Blaise said that we all have something in common…”

“We’re all gay, yes,” Malfoy said. “Don’t be shocked Potter, I knew it ever since I first saw you. Don’t take it the wrong way, but you are too petite to be anything but gay.”

“What and you aren’t?” Harry argued. Malfoy laughed a genuine laugh that shocked Harry, and he said, “Potter, I was joking. You do know what joking is right? Yes you are petite, but I knew through other ways.”

“Like what?”

“Well, like how you couldn’t stop staring at me in the Great Hall,” Malfoy stated. That caused Harry to blush, and Malfoy’s lips curled in satisfaction. “Don’t blush Potter, though you look very nice heated. There are other reasons, though I think I will keep them to myself.”

“Umm okay,” Harry said, trying to control his blush. “Umm how long have you know that you were… uhh gay?”

“Eleven,” Malfoy stated.

“H-How did you know?” Harry asked.

Malfoy smirked and said, “I think I will tell you later.” He chuckled at the small glare Harry threw him. “Anyway, I have to say that I am surprise it took you this long to figure out. Oh well,” he shrugged. Harry refused to comment on that.

“Yeah well…” Harry said, trying to stir the conversation into something safer. “… Are you going to Hogsmeade?”

“Of course,” Malfoy said. “What a stupid question to ask Potter, everyone is going to Hogsmeade.”

“I’m not,” Harry said, trying his best to hold back his jealousy.

“Oh? Why not?” Malfoy asked, “Scared of a few dementors Potter?”

Harry glared at him. “No. It’s because my dad refused to sign the permission form.”

“Why not?” Malfoy asked curiously.

“He just wouldn’t!” Harry said, forgetting who he was talking to as he let his frustration flow. “He is always so damn protective about me! He wouldn’t let me have friends, I barely left our house before Hogwarts, and when I do, he’s always looking around like You-Know-Who’s just going to jump out and attack us even though he’s gone! And he’s just so damn… overprotective I can’t handle it! He’s always saying of _our_ plan, even though it’s his and even though he doesn’t push me I just know that if I don’t do what he wants, he’ll be disappointed, which I don’t want, and yet there’s no way that I can even live up to his plans because now I realize that I’m fricking gay!”

Harry’s chest moved with his rapid breaths as he tried to calm down. Malfoy just watched him, interested and silent. When Harry calmed down his entire face turned red and muttered “Sorry.”

Malfoy smirked and said, “Don’t worry about it Potter. After all, isn’t this what friends do? Rant to each other about their fathers?”

Harry looked up at Malfoy. “Friends?” he asked.

“Maybe. I’ve decided that I don’t totally hate you,” Malfoy said. “Besides, you are much better company than Crabbe and Goyle can ever be. So yes, friends.” Harry couldn’t help the smile on his face. He and Malfoy were friends… kind of. “Anyway, I have a few things to do, so I will be seeing you Potter.”

Malfoy moved from his desk and smirked at Harry before leaving through the door. Harry barely had time to say “Goodbye” when Draco closed the door behind him. He couldn’t help but keep the smile as he walked out afterwards. He and Malfoy are now friends, at least that is what Malfoy had said. A sense of rebellion stirred in him when he thought of telling his father this. James would be so angry, it excited Harry to know that he had a forbidden friendship with Malfoy. He wondered what his father would do if he knew his son was now associating himself with not one, but two Slytherins. The excitement grew, and Harry couldn’t hold it in. He was grinning like an idiot when he returned to the Gryffindor common room.

“What made you so happy?” Ron asked, looking at Harry like he was a weird specimen.

“Nothing,” Harry shrugged sitting next to his friend. Maybe one day he would tell Ron and Hermione everything, but for now, he decided that he would keep his secrets.


	6. Quidditch Match

Chapter 6

Quidditch Match

“Don’t worry about me,” Harry said, in what he hoped was an offhand voice, “I’ll see you at the feast. Have a good time.”

It was Halloween and Ron, Hermione, and Harry were finishing breakfast. He accompanied them to the entrance hall, where Filch, the caretaker, was standing inside the front doors, checking off names against a long list, peering suspiciously into every face, and making sure that no one was sneaking out who shouldn’t be going.

Malfoy walked passed Harry, and they both shared a look as the Slytherin walked by, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. The two trolls glared at Harry as they passed, but Harry was sure he saw Malfoy give him a friendly smirk. When the three was gone, Harry made his solitary way up the marble staircase, through the deserted corridors, and back to Gryffindor Tower.

“Password?” the Fat Lady said, jerking out of a doze.

“Fortuna Major,” Harry said listlessly.

The portrait swung open and he climbed thorugh the hole into the common room. It was full of chattering first and second years, and a few older students, who had obviously visited Hogsmeade so often the novelty had worn off.

“Harry! Harry! Hi, Harry!”

It was Colin Creevey, a second year who was deeply in awe of Harry and never missed an opportunity to speak to him.

“Aren’t you going to Hogsmeade Harry? Why not? Hey”—Colin looked eagerly around at his friends—“you can come and sit with us, if you like, Harry!”

“Er—no, thanks, Colin,” Harry said, who wasn’t in the mood to have a lot of people staring avidly at the scar on his forehead. He made an excuse and turned right around and headed back out of the portrait hole again.

“What was the point waking me up?” the Fat Lady called grumpily after him as he walked away.

Harry wandered dispiritedly towards the library, but halfway there he changed his mind; he didn’t feel like working. He turned around and came face-to-face with Filch, who had obviously just seen off the last of the Hogsmeade visitors.

“What are you doing?” Filch snarled suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Harry said truthfully.

“Nothing!” Filch spat, his jowls quivering unpleasantly. “A likely story! Sneaking around on your own—why aren’t you in Hogsmeade buying Stink Pellets and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms like the rest of your nasty little friends?”

Harry shrugged.

“Well, get back to your common room where you belong!” Filch snapped, and he stood glaring until Harry had passed out of sight.

But Harry didn’t go back to the common room; he climbed a staircase, thinking vaguely of visiting the Owlery to see Hedwig, and was walking along another corridor when a voice from inside one of the rooms said, “Harry?”

Harry doubled back to see to see who had spoken and met Professor Lupin-Black, looking around his office door.

“What are you doing?” Lupin-Black said, though in a very different voice from Filch. “Where are Ron and Hermione?”

“Hogsmeade,” Harry said, in a would-be casual voice.

“Ah,” Lupin-Black said. He considered Harry for a moment. “Why don’t you come in? I’ve just taken delivery of a grindylow for our next lesson.”

“A what?” Harry asked.

He followed Lupin-Black into his office. In the corner stood a very large tank of water. A sickly green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long spindly fingers.

“Water demon,” Lupin-Black said, surveying the grindylow thoughtfully. “We shouldn’t have much difficulty with him, not after the kappas. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle.”

The grindylow bared its green teeth and then buried itself in a tangle of weeds in a corner.

“Cup of tea?” Lupin-Black said, looking around for his kettle. “I was just thinking of making one.”

“All right,” Harry said awkwardly. His father’s warning came to mind and he became curious for the reason. Lupin-Black tapped the kettle with his wand, and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout.

“Sit down,” Lupin-Black said, taking the lid off of a dusty tin. “I’ve only got teabags, I’m afraid—but I daresay you’ve had enough of tea leaves?”

Harry looked at him. Lupin-Black’s eyes were twinkling.

“How did you know about that?” Harry asked.

“Professor McGonagall told me,” Lupin-Black said, passing Harry a chipped mug of tea. “You’re not worried, are you?”

“No,” Harry said.

He thought of telling Lupin-Black of his father’s letters, but decided not to. He did not even know how to even introduce the subject. For all he knew, his father and Professor Lupin-Black barely knew each other when they were younger. Something of Harry’s thoughts seemed to have shown on his face, because Lupin-Black said, “Anything worrying you, Harry?”

“No,” Harry lied. He drank a bit of tea and watched the grindylow brandishing a fist at him. “Yes,” he said suddenly, putting his tea down on Lupin-Black’s desk. “Few things…My dad… he told me some things in his letters.”

“I could guess so,” Professor Lupin-Black sighed, looking at Harry. “I’m guessing he was not happy of my appointment as your Professor?”

“Err—kind of, but how did you know?” Harry asked.

“Your dad and I were friends once,” Professor Lupin-Black said. “While we were students here. We were all in the same year and all sorted into Gryffindor. It was your dad, me, and my husband, as well as one other boy.”

“Wait, my dad was friends with you and your husband?” Harry asked, frowning slightly. “He never mentioned anyone of you. He only talked about him and my mum during Hogwarts.”

“Well,” Professor Lupin-Black said. “That is understandable. I really do not know how to describe this, and even if I should be the one to say this, but your father and us… we had a falling out.”

“What? Why?” Harry asked.

 Lupin frowned, and tried to pick his words carefully. “It happened… a few weeks after your mother… died. Sirius, my husband, and I tried to bring your dad’s mood up. We helped him find the home you two are living in now, and afterwards we announced our engagement. James was… angry, and we never spoke again.”

“But why would my dad be angry?” Harry asked, trying to think of any reason his father would be angry at Professor Lupin-Black. Sure, his dad does get mad, but it was usually at co-workers who messed up paperwork that caused him extra work. Harry couldn’t remember a time his dad was mad at him though.

“That is something you should ask your father, Harry,” Professor Lupin-Black said in a serious tone.

“Oh…” Harry said, frowning slightly. He looked around a bit more then said, “Professor, about the boggart… why didn’t you let me fight it?”

“Why I jumped in front of you?” Professor Lupin-Black nodded. “Well Harry, to be perfectly honest, I thought that the boggart would turn into Voldemort. I didn’t think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staffroom. I imagined that people would panic.”

“I didn’t think of Voldemort,” Harry said honestly. “I—I remembered those dementors.”

“And for that, I am impressed,” Lupin-Black said thoughtfully. He smiled slightly at the look of surprise on Harry’s face. “That suggests that what you fear most of all is—fear. Very wise, Harry.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, so he drank some more tea. “So you’ve been thinking that I didn’t believe you capable of fighting the boggart?” Lupin-Black said shrewdly.

“Well… yeah,” Harry said. He was suddenly feeling a lot happier. “Professor Lupin-Black, you know the dementors—“

He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Lupin-Black called.

The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblin which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry, his black eyes narrowing.

“Ah, Severus,” Lupin-Black said, smiling. “Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?”

Snape set down the smoking goblet, his eyes wandering between Harry and Lupin-Black.

“I was showing Harry my grindlylow,” Lupin-Black said pleasantly, pointing to the tank.

“Fascinating,” Snape said, without looking at it. “You should drink that directly, Lupin.”

“Yes, yes, I will,” Lupin-Black said.

“I made an entire cauldronful,” Snape continued. “If you need more.”

“I should probably take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus.”

“Not at all,” Snape said, but there was a look in his eye Harry didn’t like. He backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful. Harry looked curiously at the goblet. Lupin smiled.

“Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me,” he said. “I have never been much of a potion-brewer, as is my husband, and this one is particularly complex.” He picked up the goblet and sniffed it. “Pity sugar makes it useless,” he added, taking a sip and shuttering.

“Why—?” Harry began. Lupin looked at him and answered the unfinished question.

“I’ve been feeling a bit off-color,” he said. “This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren’t many wizards who are up to making it, and those who do charge a small fortune.”

Professor Lupin-Black took another sip and Harry had a crazy urge to knock the goblet out of his hands.

“Professor Snape’s very interested in the Dark Arts,” he blurted out.

“Really?” Lupin-Black said, looking only mildly interested as he took another gulp of potion.

“Some people reckon—“ Harry hesitated, then plunged recklessly on, “some people reckon he’d do anything to get the Defense Against the Dark Arts job.”

Lupin-Black drained the goblet and pulled a face. “Disgusting,” he said. “Well, Harry, I’d better get back to work. I’ll see you at the feast later.”

“Right,” Harry said, putting down his empty teacup. The empty goblet was still smoking.

“Potter, hey Potter,” a voice whispered down the hall. Harry looked around. Students were starting to come back from Hogsmeade, groups chatting happily of what they saw and brought. Harry looked up and saw Malfoy standing by himself a little aways. Malfoy was alone, and when they made eye contact, the Slytherin smirked and walked into an empty corridor. Harry, curious, and somehow knowing Malfoy wanted him to follow, doubled-back down the corridor and turned the corner that Malfoy did.

The Slytherin was waiting by an open door, leaning against the stone wall next to it. “Hurry up Potter, before anyone sees us,” Malfoy said.

Harry obeyed and followed Malfoy into the empty classroom, closing the door behind him. “Malfoy, what do you want?” Harry asked curiously.

Malfoy turned around to Harry and pulled a small bag from an inside pocket. “Since you were whining about not going to Hogsmeade,” he began, “I decided to treat you with something.”

Malfoy tossed the bag into the air, and Harry caught it easily. He looked confused as he opened it, chocolate bars and other sweets hidden inside it. “What is this?” he asked.

“Sweets, from Honeydukes,” Malfoy said. “I decided to get you some chocolates, but Blaise was determined to fill it.” His pale face had a hint of red as he mentioned Blaise’s involvement, as if he was ruining Malfoy’s plan.

“Ohh… well, thanks Draco,” Harry smiled at Malfoy. He took out a chocolate bar and unwrapped it, taking a huge bite of it and savoring the flavor. “Mmm, this is good,” he said with his mouth full.

“Honestly Potter, were you raised in a farm or something?” Malfoy sneered. “Don’t talk to me with your mouth full like that.”

Harry chewed and swallowed quickly, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry Malfoy,” he said.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and said, “Whatever Potter, just make sure not to do it again.”

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle as he continued to eat the chocolate. Malfoy just shook his head and watched silently as Harry ate his first chocolate bar from Honeydukes. When he was done, Harry looked up at Malfoy and asked, “Did you have any?”

“Of course I did,” Malfoy shrugged. “But my bar was half the one you just ate Potter.”

Harry dug into the bag and pulled out another bar of chocolate. He walked up to Malfoy, who just watched him curiously. When he reached the boy, Harry unwrapped the chocolate and gave it to him. “It’s only fair yeah? I mean, you technically own all of this,” he said.

Malfoy looked at Harry for a moment, studying the small boy carefully before taking it. “You’re right, I guess. This is mine,” he said. He took the chocolate bar and broke it in half. He took his half and shoved the second half in Harry’s still open hand. “So it’s mine to do with as I wish,” Malfoy continued. “Eat Potter.

Harry looked down at his half of the chocolate and nibbled on it. Draco took a bite, chewed carefully, and swallowed before saying, “I have to return to Blaise. I will see you at the feast… Potter.”

Harry nodded, “See you… Malfoy.”

Harry watched as Malfoy left the classroom. Something strange happened inside him as he stared at the open door. He finished his half of the chocolate bar and wiped his hands together. After pocketing the bag of sweets, Harry left the empty classroom and headed back towards Gryffindor Tower.

Ron and Hermione returned around dusk, Ron dumping a shower of brilliantly colored sweets into Harry’s lap. Their faces were pink-faced from the cold wind and looking as though they’d had the time of their lives.

“Thanks,” Harry said, picking up a packet of tiny black Pepper Imps. He was already feeling full from the sweets Malfoy gave him. “What’s Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?”

By the sound of it—everywhere. Dervish and Banges, the wizarding equipment shop, Zonko’s Joke Shop, into the Three Broomsticks for foaming mugs of hot butterbeer, and many places besides. “The post office, Harry! About two hundred owls, all sitting on shelves, all color-coded depending on how fast you want your letter to get there!”

“Honeydukes has got a new kind of fudge; they were giving out free samples, there’s a bit, look—“

“We think we saw an ogre, honestly, they get all sorts at the Three Broomsticks—“

“Wish we could have brought you some butterbeer, really warms you up—“

“What did you do?” Hermione said, looking anxious. “Did you get any work done?”

“No,” Harry said. “Lupin-Black made me a cup of tea in his office. And then Snape came in. …”

He told Ron and Hermione all about the goblet as they started headed out of the portrait hole, following the crowd. The two were shocked that Lupin-Black actually drank the potion, the three of them suspicious of Snape’s intention.

Throughout the feast, Harry kept looking at the staff table. Professor Lupin-Black looked cheerful and as well as he ever did; he was talking animatedly to tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher. Harry moved his eyes along the table, to the place where Snape sat. Was he imagining it, or were Snape’s eyes flickering toward Lupin-Black more often than was natural?

The feast finished with an entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding; Nearly Headless Nick had a great success with a reenactment of his own botched beheading.

It had been a wonderful evening for Harry, he had obtaining enough sweets to last him the rest of the month from both Ron and Malfoy. The next day, life continued as normal for Harry. He attended classes, went to Quidditch practice, and before he knew it the days started to pass by quickly. He tried his best to spend some time with Blaise and Malfoy, but Crabbe and Goyle made it next to impossible for him to even approach Malfoy. Harry was able to reach Blaise though, during the Friday afternoon before the first Quidditch match of the season the next day.

“So, are you ready for the match?” Blaise asked. They were sitting in an empty corridor near a small quad. It was dark inside the castle, so dark that extra lanterns and torches were lit, so many of the students were sticking to inside the castle. Outside the winds were howling and the rain fell harder than ever. Harry and Blaise were sitting close together to stay warm.

“Yeah, I think I am. Wood’s been training us relentlessly,” Harry said. “You should have seen Fred and George yesterday, they looked like they were about to fall off their brooms they were so tired!”

Blaise laughed. “I can imagine,” he said. “I watched it without you know.”

“Y-you did?” Harry stuttered.

“Yeah,” Blaise smirked. “You know, you look very good on a broom Harry.”

Harry’s face grew hot and he sputtered as he tried to say something. “W-W-Well, umm thanks?”

Blaise just smiled and crooked his head a bit. “I’m serious Harry, you have some serious moves on that broom. It’s no wonder you always catch the Snitch.” Harry’s face grew hotter, and he somehow knew that it was getting closer to the shade of red of Ron’s hair. “No, don’t blush like that Harry. I’m just complimenting you.”

“Sorry,” Harry apologized.

“Don’t be, I like it when you blush,” Blaise smiled. “It means I’m saying the right things.”

“Wha—“

“Hey, Harry! How about a friendly bet?” Blaise smiled.

“A bet?” Harry asked, feeling lost in their conversation.

“Yeah, let’s bet on the Quidditch match tomorrow,” Blaise said. “If Gryffindor wins, then I’ll do something for you, but if you lose, then you’ll have to do something for me.” Blaise smiled at Harry, who nodded.

“Umm alright,” he said. “If we win tomorrow… how about you do my charms homework for a week?”

Blaise laughed and shook his head, “Too easy Harry, but alright. Let’s see, how about if Gryffindor Team somehow lose… I’ll take you out and cheer you up.”

“Take me out?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, just the two of us,” Blaise nodded. “We could go for a walk down the lake, or find somewhere private… anything to cheer you up.” Blaise gave Harry an honest smile, which Harry returned.

“Alright,” Harry agreed. “If we win, you’ll do my Charms homework, and if we lose you’ll cheer me up… wait a minute, doesn’t both ways only benefit me?”

“Don’t think about it Harry,” Blaise said. “I’m just being a good friend. And besides, spending more time with you benefits me as well.”

Harry nodded, understandingly, and said, “Alright then, it’s a bet.”

They shook hands and Blaise grinned. “Awesome! Good luck Harry.”

“Thanks,” Harry said. “Hopefully Hufflepuff would be easy.”

“I don’t know Diggory’s an excellent Seeker… though, he doesn’t look as seamless as you do on a broom,” Blaise said. Harry laughed, and a flash of lightning illuminated the wall in front of them. “I think we should continue this elsewhere, come on Harry,” Blaise said. He stood up and led Harry away from the howling winds in the quad. They walked close together, Harry still feeling the chilling effects of the wind, as they turned a corner and walked down a corridor, passing several students who did not glance back. “So, as I was saying…” Blaise continued. “Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, should be exciting to watch. Though… I could do without the rain.”

“Yeah,” Harry frowned. “It looks like it’ll never stop.”

“I’m sure you’ll still do great Harry, after all you are the best Seeker around,” Blaise chuckled. “Just don’t tell Draco that.”

“I won’t,” Harry said.

They continued to walk down several corridors, their talks turning to more safe topics. Harry did not care that they passed by several students as they walked, nor did he notice or think about the way some of them looked back to make sure they were seeing things right. He was just enjoying time with his friend, and that was all that mattered to him at that time. They continued to talk and wander until they found themselves in the entrance hall. “I’ll see you tomorrow Harry,” Blaise said, taking a step towards the dungeons. “It was great talking to you.”

“I had a great time too, see ya,” Harry said. They both turned towards their respected staircases and climbed them, Blaise heading towards the dungeons, and Harry making the long trek towards Gryffindor Tower.

The next day, Harry woke up extremely early; so early that it was still dark. For a moment he thought the roaring of the wind had woken him. Then he felt a cold breeze on the back of his neck and sat bolt upright—Peeves the Poltergeist had been floating next to him, blowing hard in his ear.

“What did you do that for?” Harry said furiously.

Peeves puffed out his cheeks, blew hard, and zoomed backward out of the room, cackling.

Harry fumbled for his alarm clock and looked at it. It as half past four. Cursing Peeves, he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but it was very difficult, now that he was awake, to ignore the sounds of the thunder rumbling overhead, the pounding of the wind against the castle walls, and the distant creaking of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. In a few hours he would be out on the Quidditch field, battling through that gale. Finally, he gave up any thought of more sleep, got up, dressed, picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand, and walked quietly out of the dormitory.

As Harry opened the door, something brushed against his leg. He bent down just in time to grab Crookshanks by the end of his bushy tail and drag him outside. “You know, I reckon Ron was right about you,” Harry told the cat suspiciously. “There are plenty of mice around the place—go and chase them. Go on,” he added, nudging the cat down the spiral staircase with his foot.

The noise of the storm was even louder in the common room. He was starting to feel very apprehensive about the match. Wood had pointed out Cedric Diggory to him in the corridor; Diggory was a sixth year and a lot bigger than Harry. Seekers were usually light and speedy, but Diggory’s weight would be an advantage in this weather because he was less likely to be blown off course. Harry’s thoughts then drifted to his bet with Blaise. Even though it was just a small friendly bet, Harry did not want to lose, and worried of not only the consequences of losing Gryffindor’s first match, but of what the other students will think of him and Blaise alone together.

Harry whiled away the hours until dawn in front of the fire, getting up every now and then to stop Crookshanks from sneaking up the boys’ staircase again. At long last Harry thought it must be time for breakfast, so he headed through the portrait hole alone.

He was one of the first few who arrived for breakfast, and he was nibbling on a piece of toast when the rest of the team arrived. Oliver tried to psych Harry and the rest of the team up, but Harry wasn’t having it that morning. He felt weird, like he something deep inside him was telling him that something terrible will happen.

Soon, Harry found himself in the locker room of the Quidditch field, fully dressed in his scarlet robe and listening to Wood’s pre-game speech. If the crowd was cheering, they couldn’t hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder. Rain was spattering over Harry’s glasses as they walked out. How was he supposed to find the Snitch in this weather!?

Madam Hooch called for them to mount their brooms, and with her whistle they were off! Within five minutes Harry was soaked to his skin and frozen, hardly able to see his teammates, let alone the tiny Snitch. He flew backward and forward across the field past blurred red and yellow shapes, with no idea of what was happening in the rest of the game. A golden glint flew past him, and he tried his best to follow it. He couldn’t hear the commentary over the wind. There was a clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lightning. The lightning illuminated the stands, and Harry saw the silhouette of an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost, empty row of seats. This was quickly getting dangerous, Harry had to find the Snitch quickly or else—

An eerie silence was fell around him. The wind was forgetting to roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though Harry had gone suddenly deaf—what was going on?

And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over him, inside him, just as he became aware of something moving on the field below. …

Before he’d had time to think, Harry had taken his eyes off the golden glint and looked down. At least a hundred dementors, their hidden faces pointing up at him, were standing beneath him. It was as though freezing water were rising in his chest, cutting at his insides. And then he heard it again …Someone was screaming, screaming inside his head…a woman…

_“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!”_

_“Stand aside, you silly girl … stand aside, now. ….”_

_“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—“_

Numbing, swirling white mist was filling Harry’s brain. …What was he doing? Why was he flying? He needed to help her. …She was going to die. …She was going to be murdered…

He was falling, falling through the icy mist.

“Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy…”

A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming and Harry knew no more.

“Lucky the ground was so soft.”

“I thought he was dead for sure.”

“But he didn’t even break his glasses.”

Harry could hear the voices whispering but they made no sense whatsoever. He didn’t have a clue where he was, or how he’d got there, or what he’d been doing before he got there. All he knew was that every inch of him was aching as though it had been beaten.

“That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Harry’s eyes snapped open. He was laying in the hospital wing. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, spattered with mud from head to foot, was gathered around his bed. Ron and Hermione were there also, looking as though they’d just climbed out of a swimming pool.

“Harry!” Fred said, who looked extremely white underneath the mud. “How’re you feeling?”

It was as though Harry’s memory was on fast forward. The lightning—the Grim—the Snitch—and the dementors …

“What happened?” he asked, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped.

“You fell off,” Fred said. “Must’ve been what, fifty feet?”

“We thought you’d died,” Alicia, who was shaking, said.

The doors to the Hospital Wing banged open, and Harry turned his head to see his father, pale-faced and worried sick running towards his bed. “Harry!” he called out. “Harry! Oh Harry—move aside please—Oh Harry, what happened? McGonagall sent me an owl—you fell—I—“ James Potter was now sitting on Harry’s bed, touching and holding his son as if looking for any broken or missing pieces. “I knew this was a horrible idea, I just bloody knew it,” he muttered to himself. “Dementors in Hogwarts!”

Harry let his father check him out, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he knew that his dad was with him. When his dad finished making sure that he was still whole, he grabbed Harry’s shoulders gently and asked, “What happened Harry?”

“I don’t remember,” Harry said.

“Mr. Potter?” Wood said cautiously.

James turned around and looked at Wood. “Yes… Oliver Wood?”

“Harry was trying to get the Snitch, but the dementors came… They went to Harry and Diggory… Diggory got the Snitch,” Wood said, as if losing the match was the most devastating thing.

“Dementors came to the Quidditch field!?” James roared. Harry flinched as his dad’s hands tightened quickly around his shoulders. James noticed this and immediately let go. “Sorry,” he said softly.

He sat up and looked around, frowning. “Where is Madam Pomfrey?” he demanded.

As if waiting to be called upon, Madam Pomfrey came in to tell the team to leave Harry in peace. She noticed James and said, “Your son’s going to be fine James. Boy’s just like you. Study and rock-headed.”

“Dumbledore was really angry,” Hermione said in a quaking voice, bringing Harry’s attention back to her. “I’ve never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away. …He was furious they’d come onto the grounds. We heard him—“

“Then he magicked you onto a stretcher,” Ron said. “And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were…”

His voice faded, but Harry hardly noticed. He was thinking about what the dementors had done to him…about the screaming voice. He looked up and saw Ron and Hermione looking at him so anxiously that he quickly cast around for something matter-of-fact to say.

“Harry,” his dad asked, “Harry where is your broom?”

Harry looked around and frowned. He couldn’t find his Nimbus Two Thousand anywhere. “Where is my Nimbus?” he asked Ron and Hermione.

The two looked quickly at each other. “Er—“

“What?” Harry said, looking from one to the other.

“Well …when you fell off, it got blown away,” Hermione said hesitantly.

“And?”

“And it hit—it hit—oh Harry—it hit the Whomping Willow.”

Harry’s insides lurched. The Whomping Willow was a very violent tree that stood alone in the middle of the grounds.

“And?” he said, dreading the answer.

“Well, you know the Whomping Willow,” Ron said. “It—it doesn’t like being hit.”

“Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came around,” Hermione said in a very small voice.

Slowly, she reached down for a bag at her feet, turned it upside down, and tipped a dozen bits of splintered wood and twig onto the bed, the only remains of Harry’s faithful, finally beaten broomstick.

James looked at the lost look on his son’s face and sat down on the bed again, putting his arm around Harry’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay son,” he said. He looked down at the remains of his gift to Harry for joining the team and said, “How about… I get you a new broomstick eh? I bet that will cheer you up—or maybe I can try and get another Nimbus Two Thousand. I’m sure that there must still be one at—“

“No thanks,” Harry said shaking his head. He couldn’t believe that his broomstick was gone. And the thought of replacing it… he couldn’t bear it. “Please don’t replace it,” he whispered.

“Alright,” James said. “I won’t. But what will you do for a broom?”

“I’ll think of something… thanks dad.”

“You’re welcome son,” James said. He ruffled Harry’s hair and kissed the top of his head. “I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah… I love you too,” Harry said, his eyes never leaving the destroyed broomstick. He heard his dad sigh and felt his weight leaving the bed as he stood up.

“Right, I have to go and talk to Dumbledore,” James said seriously. “Ron, Hermione, it was good seeing you again. I’ll see you during break Harry.” And with that James Potter left the hospital wing. Harry only looked up for a moment, before looking back at his faithful, broken broomstick.


	7. Snape's Lesson

Chapter 7

Snape’s Lesson

“I told you the dementors were a horrible idea,” James said to the Minister. They were both in the Minister’s Office, along with Lucius Malfoy, who was watching intently in a corner, as well as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, Dolores Umbridge. James was standing, his fists on the table as he leaned towards the sitting Fudge, whose eyes were glancing around.

“Yes, well—it was to be expected that there would be a few hiccups. …”

“Hiccups!?” James roared, slamming the desk with his fists again. “My son almost died Cornelius!”

“Yes, well Hogwarts can sometimes be a er dangerous place—why, why, just last month Lucius’ son here was assaulted by a hippogriff, isn’t that correct Lucius?” Fudge asked.

“Yes, Minister, and we are having the paperwork to deal with it done as we speak,” Lucius nodded. “Though, I must admit there is a difference between hippogriffs and dementors.”

“A difference in that one of them is a dark creature, Fudge,” James said, gritting his teeth. “And it attacked my son during a Quidditch Match.”

“Yes, well—“

“He was at least a hundred feet from the air, if Dumbledore did not intervene he would not have survived the crash!” James said.

“Yes, it is a fortunate thing that your son survived,” Fudge said. “But one little incident should not ruin months of planning and preparations.”

“Planning and preparation!? For what?” James yelled. “The dementors are only causing trouble at Hogwarts, and I want them gone before some dementors gives a student the Dementor’s Kiss!”

“Hmm-hmm,” a sickening sweet voice said, as she cleared her throat. The three men turned their attention to the sole woman in the room. She gave them a sweet smile, her toadish face stretching as her eyes landed on James. “I believe, that only the Ministry can order the Dementors to give the Dementor’s Kiss, Mr. Potter. And if the Ministry does not give the order, than the Dementors would never give the Dementor’s Kiss. We hold a tight leash on these creatures Mr. Potter, and lack of faith in that leash shows lack of faith in the Minister, and the Ministry as a whole. A quality that I believe is undesirable in one of our best Aurors.”

James glared at Umbridge. “Have you dealt with dementors, Dolores?” he asked. She remained silent, so he continued. “Because I have, and let me tell you, the Ministry does not have complete control over these creatures. These are Dark Creatures, and they will only respond to having people to feed off of.”

“It is, though I hate to admit it,” Lucius said, “only logical that the dementors would go to where the most excitement is.”

“Yes, yes, I have heard all of this from Dumbledore,” Fudge said. He looked at James and said, “I cannot deal with this now, I have too much to deal with right now, including that rogue hippogriff that has assaulted Mr. Malfoy’s son. I will deal with this situation later, so please go back to your office.”

“Fudge—“

“Go back Mr. Potter!” Fudge roared. James gave one final huff and glare at both Umbridge and Fudge before leaving the office. He barely heard the door open and close behind him as Lucius followed him.

“That was a show you’ve played in there, Potter,” Lucius said.

James just glared at Lucius. “What do you want, Malfoy?” he asked.

Lucius chuckled. “A simple talk Potter, surely you are educated enough for that. I just want to commend you on bringing the situation to the Minister. Though, it could use some certain tact.” James just gave Lucius a sharp look. “You know that the Minister have been working on this little project for more than a year. Hogwarts will prove that he is wrong, though shoving it in his face like that… well, it will only make the bull more stubborn.”

“So, why you telling me this Malfoy?” James asked, walking briskly. Lucius kept with the pace, his strides matching James’s.

“You said that dementors are dark creatures, and I believe you are correct,” he said.

“Yeah, you’ll know a lot about dark creatures, don’t you Malfoy?”

Lucius chuckled and said, “I have been freed of those charges, and you really should be more considerate to people trying to help you.”

“Help me?”

“Yes,” Lucius said. “I have agreed that the dementors at Hogwarts is a situation that needs addressing. But, Cornelius currently have other things to occupy himself as he ignores the problem.”

“Really?” James asked in disbelief, suspiciously staring at Lucius. Lucius ignored the look and said, “Yes. Now, if you excuse me I am terribly busy. Good day Potter.”

James watched as Lucius Malfoy turned a corner and walked away from him. James waited until Malfoy was gone before he softened his face, the glare going away. Suddenly feeling exhausted, he decided to go back to his office.

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. He didn’t argue or complain, but he wouldn’t let her throw away the shattered remnants of his Nimbus Two Thousand. He knew he was being stupid, knew that the Nimbus was beyond repair, but Harry couldn’t help it; he felt as though he’d lost one of his best friends.

He hadn’t told anyone about the Grim, not even Ron and Hermione, because he knew Ron would panic and Hermione would scoff. And then there were the dementors. Harry felt sick and humiliated every time he thought of them. Everyone said the dementors were horrible, but no one else collapsed every time they went near one. No one else heard echoes in their heads of their dying mother.

It was a relief to return to the noise and bustle of the main school on Monday, where he was forced to think about other things, such as that bet with Blaise, or the odd look from Malfoy he was getting from across the Great Hall. He was happy to return to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but that happiness quickly evaporated when he saw Professor Snape standing behind the teacher’s desk instead of Professor Lupin-Black. “Sit down,” he drawled as the confused students filtered in.

“Where’s Professor Lupin-Black?” Harry asked.

“He says he is feeling too ill to teach today,” Snape said with a twisted smile. “I believe I told you to sit down.”

Harry did not sit, he stayed where he was. “What’s wrong with him?”

Snape’s black eyes glittered. “Nothing life-threatening,” he said, looking as though he wished it were. “Five points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty.”

Harry walked slowly to his seat and sat down. He glanced back to where Blaise and Draco were sitting, both of them looked concern, though Draco was just staring at him. Snape looked around at the class. “Professor Lupin-Black has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far—“

“Please, sir, we’ve done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows,” Hermione said quickly, “and we’re just about to start—“

“Be quiet,” Snape said coldly. “I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin’s lack of organization.”

“He’s the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had,” Dean Thomas said boldy, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class. Snape looked more menacing than ever.

“You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you—I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss—“

Harry watched him flick through the textbook, to the very back chapter, which he must knew they hadn’t covered.

“—werewolves,” Snape said.

“But sir,” Hermione said, seemingly unable to restrain herself, “we’re not supposed to do werewolves yet, we’re due to start hinkypunks—“

“Miss Granger,” Snape said in a voice of deadly calm, “I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394.” He glanced around again. “ _All_ of you! _Now!_ ”

With many bitter sidelong looks and some sullen muttering, the class opened their books.

“Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?” Snape said.

Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone expect Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air.

“Anyone?” Snape said, ignoring Hermione’s hand. His twisted smile was back. “Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn’t even taught you the basic distinction between—“

“We told you,” Parvati said suddenly, “we haven’t got as far as werewolves yet, we’re still on—“

“Silence!” Snape snarled. “Well, well, well, I never thought I’d meet a third-year class who wouldn’t even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are. …”

“Please sir,” Hermione said, whose hand was still in the air, “the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf—“

“That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger,” Snape said coolly. “Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all.”

Hermione went very red, put down her hand, and stared at the floor with her eyes full of tears. It was a mark of how much the class loathed Snape that they were all glaring at him, because every one of them had called Hermione a know-it-all at least once, and Ron, who told Hermione she was a know-it-all at least twice a week, said loudly, “You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don’t want to be told?”

The class knew instantly he’d gone too far, but Harry swore he heard a snicker and looked back to see Blaise, who was now looking at Ron. Snape advanced on Ron slowly, and the room held its breath.

“Detention, Weasley,” Snape said silkily, his face very close to Ron’s. “And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed.”

No one made a sound throughout the rest of the lesson. They sat and made notes on werewolves from the textbook, while Snape prowled up and down the rows of desks, examining the work they had been doing with Professor Lupin.

“Very poorly explained … That is incorrect, the kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia. …Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn’t have given it three. …”

When the bell rang at last, Snape held them back. “You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Wednesday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention.”

Harry and Hermione left the room with the rest of the class, who waited until they were well out of earshot, then burst into a furious tirade about Snape. Draco and Blaise broke from the rest of the Slytherins, who were glaring at the Gryffindors. Draco and Blaise walked past Harry, and Harry felt a piece of paper in his hand. He watched as the two walked past the group of Gryffindors, and turn a corner. He looked at the piece of paper and read, “ _Classroom down the hall. Ten minutes.”_

Ron caught up with them in a towering rage. “D’you know what that—(he called Snape something that made Hermione say _“Ron!”_ ) “—is making me do? I’ve got to scrub out the bedpans in the hospital wing. _Without magic!_ ” He was breathing deeply, his fists clenched. “Why couldn’t the dementors attack Snape instead of Harry, eh? They could have finished him off for us!”

Harry looked at his raging friend and took a step back. “I think I forgot something… I’ll meet you guys later in the common room, alright?”

“Wha—yeah, alright Harry,” Ron said, anger still in his voice. “Snape’s gone so there’s that.”

Harry nodded and started to head back towards the classroom. He doubled back when he was sure Ron and Hermione wasn’t in the corridor, and followed the path Draco and Blaise took. He went down the corridor, and found the classroom the note was talking about.

He opened the door to find both Draco and Blaise there, leaning against desks and talking softly to each other. “Harry!” Blaise said as Harry closed the door behind him. The Slytherin walked up to Harry, ignoring the glare Draco was giving him, and pulled the small Gryffindor into a hug. “Are you hurt? Are you all right? Draco and I wanted to visit you but with the Gryffindors swarming you, we didn’t get a chance!” he said.

A smile broke Harry’s face and his arms reached around Blaise’s waist embarrassed. “I’m fine,” he said. He looked over at Draco, and blushed when he saw an obvious look of jealousy on his face. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked.

“Mostly,” Draco said, stepping towards them “But there is more, come sit.” He indicated to his desk and gave Blaise a sharp look. He smiled when Blaise moved away from Harry, and Harry started moving to Draco’s seat. Draco smirked when Harry sat down, and looked at him. “How are you feeling?” Draco asked softly.

“Fine… just very angry,” Harry admitted.

“Because of Professor Snape?” Draco asked.

Harry nodded.

“Yeah, that… Snape,” Harry said. He looked up at Draco with a small glare and said, “How can you guys defend that guy? He’s vile! You saw how he treated Hermione and Ron!”

“Well—“

“No well!” Harry said, “It’s cruel what’s he’s doing! _Two rolls_ of parchment by Wednesday!? There’s no way any of us can do that!” His cheeks were flustered as he ranted out his anger. “And do you know what he’s making Ron do? He has to scrub out the bedpans in the hospital wing! Without magic!?”

“How is Weasley doing?” Blaise asked. Harry whipped his head as he turned to look at Blaise. “Is he… angry?”

“He’s more than that,” Harry told Blaise. “He’s absolutely livid.” Blaise frowned at that.

Draco got off of the desk and turned to face Harry. “Pot—Harry,” he said. “Do you want to talk about what happened during the match?”

“I don’t—sure… just don’t laugh,” Harry said. Draco smirked and said, “Me? Laughing at you Harry?”

Harry ignored the comment and said, “I couldn’t see a thing, the rain was fogging my glasses and I could almost see the Snitch. Then, there was lightning and then I saw the dementors. They came close to me then… I err heard my mum. …”

“You heard your mother?” Draco asked softly.

“Yeah… I heard her begging You-Know-Who to kill her…instead, instead of me,” Harry said. He looked up at Draco and saw that the Ice Prince was frowning.

“Didn’t know that…” Draco murmured. Blaise took a step and said, “Harry… about our bet.”

Harry looked at him and gave a smile. “Right, sorry bout that. Looks like I lost.”

“Wait, you two had a bet?” Draco asked, looking between Harry and Blaise.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “If I won the game, Blaise would do my homework, but if I lost we would have to spend time together down by the lake or something.” He shrugged and looked at Blaise. “And he won.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… well about that,” Blaise said. “Since the dementors interfered… how about we hold the bet for the next game?”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked casually.

“Yeah,” Blaise said. “Seems unfair, taking advantage of you like that.”

“Yes, it would,” Draco said, he turned to Harry and said. “You let him have a bet with you?”

“It’s just a friendly bet,” Harry said, looking at Draco confused. Draco shook his head as his nostrils flared. “Alright, but if he gets to have a bet with you, I would want one too.”

“Umm okay…”

“The Slytherin/Gryffindor match is coming up,” Draco said. “If we win, you’ll do my Defense homework for three weeks.”

“Okay…” Harry said, “And if I win?”

Draco smirked. “If you win, then we’ll spend an entire day at Hogsmeade with use the two of us, and I will pay for whatever you want.”

“In case you forgot, my dad didn’t sign my permission form,” Harry said. That caused Draco to laugh, his lips curved into a huge grin as he looked down at Harry. “You’re a Potter,” he said through his laughs. “And a Gryffindor. You’ll find a way.”

Harry couldn’t argue with that, so he nodded. “Alright, it’s a bet.” He held out his hand for Draco to shake. Draco took it and brought it to his lips, kissing it. “A bet, Harry.” He smirked.

Harry blushed as Draco pulled him up. “And after our bet,” Draco added, “I would like for us to be seen in public.”

“Y-Yeah… I’d like that,” Harry said, his emotions controlling him as he blushed like a middle school girl. Draco smirked and said, “Good, I’d like that too.”

Blaise rolled his eyes and groaned loudly. “I’m still here, idiots,” he said. He turned to Harry and asked, “So… about Weasley… how is he? Does he normally get this angry or…”

“What? Why are you asking so much about Ron?” Harry asked, curious.

“Just am,” Blaise shrugged.

“Well… not usually,” Harry said. “But he gets frustrated easily with people like Snape.” Blaise nodded and smiled at Harry, “Thanks—hey, we’ll see you later? Alright Harry.”

“Yeah, see you?” Harry said. Blaise left, leaving Harry and Draco by themselves. “Draco?” he asked, looking at him curiously.

Draco took a step forward and smiled at the teenaged Gryffindor. He looked as if he wanted to say something, and Harry waited until Draco talked. Draco opened his mouth and said, “Thank you Harry… for giving me a chance.”

“You’re welcome Draco,” Harry said. Draco nodded and smiled. “I’ll see you later Harry.” He wiped his thumb across Harry’s cheek and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Harry stood in his spot for nearly ten minutes before he felt his face was a reasonable non-red color. He felt his legs again, and made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He kept his breath somewhat calm as he played back what happened in the classroom. Draco touching him… kissing his hand. A thought past through his head, wishing that it was his lips Draco was kissing, or maybe… something else? Is that possible? A blush started to make its way across Harry’s cheeks again, and he tried to control it.

“What happened to you?” the Fat Lady asked, noting Harry’s blush.

“Fortuna Major,” Harry said embarrassed. The portrait swung open with the Fat Lady laughing as he stepped through the portrait hole. He spotted Ron and Hermione by the fireplace and walked up to them.

“There you are, was wondering where you were, mate,” Ron said as Harry sat down in an armchair. “Did you get your things?”

“What? Oh yeah… yeah, I got ‘em,” Harry said, momentarily forgetting the lie he told Ron and Hermione. Something sparked in him and he said, “I uh actually need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Hermione asked, looking up from her Arithmancy homework.

“Uhh…err—“ Harry didn’t know how to say it. He didn’t know why he even was saying it. Just that Ron and Hermione were his best mates and this sneaking around… it felt like lying to them. “I honestly don’t know how to say this,” he admitted.

“Say what mate?”

Harry looked at both and them and leaned closer to the table. Hermione and Ron leaned closer as well and Harry opened his mouth and just blurted out, “I’m gay.”

He wanted to close his eyes as he anticipated their reaction, but he didn’t. His eyes refused to close as they roamed from Ron to Hermione. Ron’s face was that of confusion at first, before he processed what Harry said, and a look of enlightenment emerged, a smile emerging from his face. Harry looked at Hermione, and frowned when she looked confused.

“That’s cool mate,” Ron said, nodding. “You’re like George and Charlie.” Harry just nodded and looked at Hermione. “Hermione?” he said cautiously.

“I’m sorry… but what’s gay?” she asked. “I know that it can mean happy but… I don’t think that’s what you mean here. …”

“Oh,” Harry said, embarrassed. “Well it uhh means that instead of liking… girls… I um like boys instead…?” He looked for Ron for help.

“It’s like this Hermione,” Ron said. “George explained it to me. He and Harry don’t like girls… well not in the way our dads like our mums. Instead they like guys. Like Professor Lupin-Black and his husband.”

“Ohh… I think I understand,” Hermione said, looking less confused than she was. She looked at Harry and nodded. “So you like boys, instead of girls.”

“Yes,” Harry said.

“I see… okay then.” Hermione said. “I didn’t know that was a thing before here… is that just a wizards thing? Or are there gay muggles as well?” She asked, a curious look glinting in her eyes.

“Oh, err I don’t know?” Harry said. “I guess so… obviously?”

“It’s just that I never heard of such a thing,” Hermione said quickly. “I mean, mum and dad may have mentioned it somewhere, but this is the first time actually experiencing such a thing—Do you think Professor Lupin-Black will answer a few questions for me?”

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “Maybe if you asked.”

Hermione nodded and went back to her homework, mumbling that maybe she should ask him. Harry looked at Ron who just looked back at him. “Charlie is too?” he asked.

“Yeah. Was the first to tell us,” Ron said. “Should have seen mum’s face. Looked like she would cry a lake and wouldn’t let Charlie go.”

“How did she handle George?” Harry asked.

“Same thing,” Ron chuckled. “Though she looked at Fred expectantly.”

“What did Fred say?” Harry said.

Ron smiled wide and said, “He waved his arms real fast and said, ‘Just him mum just him!’” Ron and Harry laughed together, which got Hermione to scowl at them and tell them to start their homework.

“If Snape’s teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, I’m skiving off,” Ron said as they headed toward Lupin-Black’s classroom after lunch. It was Wednesday, and Harry and Ron barely finished one roll of the assigned two rolls assignment. “Check who’s in there, Hermione.”

Hermione peered around the classroom door.

“It’s okay!”

Professor Lupin-Black was back at work. It certainly looked as though he had been ill. His old robes were hanging more loosely on him and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes; nevertheless, he smiled at the class as they took their seats, and they burst at once into an explosion of complaints about Snape’s behavior while Lupin had been ill.

“It’s not fair, he was only filling in, why should he give us homework?”

“We don’t know anything about werewolves—“

“—two rolls of parchment!”

“Did you tell Professor Snape we haven’t covered them yet?” Lupin-Black asked, frowning slightly.

The babble broke out again.

“Yes but he said we were really behind—“

“—he wouldn’t listen—“

“— _two rolls of parchment!_ ”

Professor Lupin-Black smiled at the look of indignation on every face. “Don’t worry. I’ll speak to Professor Snape. You don’t have to do the essay.”

“Oh no,” Hermione said, looking very disappointed. “I’ve already finished it!”

They had a very enjoyable lesson. Professor Lupin-Black had brought along a glass box containing a hinkypunk, a little one-legged creature who looked as though he were made of wisps of smoke, rather frail and harmless-looking. When the bell rang, everyone gathered up their things and headed for the door, Harry among them, but—

“Wait a moment, Harry,” Lupin called. “I’d like a word.”

Harry doubled back and watched Professor Lupin-Black covering the hinkypunk’s box with a cloth. “I heard about the match,” Lupin-Black said, turning back to his desk and starting to pile books into his briefcase, “and I’m sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?”

“No,” Harry said. “The tree smashed it to bits.”

Lupin-Black sighed.

“They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gungeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance.”

“Dad told me about that too,” Harry said. “You and he were in the same year right?” Lupin-Black nodded. Then, with great difficulty, Harry said, “Did you hear about the dementors too?”

Lupin looked at him quickly.

“Yes, I did. I don’t think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time. … furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds. …I suppose they were the reason you fell?”

“Yes,” Harry said. He hesitated, and then the question he had to ask burst from him before he could stop himself. “Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just—?”

“It has nothing to do with weakness,” Professor Lupin-Black said sharply, as though he had read Harry’s mind. “The dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don’t have.”

“When I go near them,” Harry said, staring at Lupin’s desk, his throat tight. “I can hear You-Know-Who murdering my mum.”

Lupin-Black made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip Harry’s shoulder, but thought better of it. There was a moment’s silence, then—

“Why did they have to come to the match?” Harry said bitterly.

“They’re getting hungry,” Lupin-Black said coolly, shutting his briefcase with a snap. “Dumbledore won’t let them into the school, so their supply of humans prey has dried up. …I don’t think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement… emotions running high …it was their idea of a feast.”

“Azkaban must be terrible,” Harry muttered. “Dad hates going there.” Lupin-Black nodded grimly.

“The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don’t need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they’re all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad within weeks.”

Harry nodded. “Whenever dad visits… it takes days before he’s his happy self again.”

“Yes, well, dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long. …”

“You made that dementor on the train back off,” Harry said suddenly.

“There are—certain defenses on can use,” Lupin-Black said. “But there was only one dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist.”

“What defenses? Harry said at once. “Can you teach me?”

“I don’t pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Harry … quite the contrary. … Your father on the other hand—“

“He won’t teach me.” Harry said, “And what if a dementor come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them—“

Lupin looked into Harry’s determined face, hesitated, then said, “Well …all right. I’ll try and help. But it’ll have to wait until next term, I’m afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill.”

James Potter walked into his office at home, still fuming about what happened in the Minister’s office.

“Hmpt, you look like you’re brewing,” said the portrait of Fleamont Potter, James’s father and Harry’s grandfather. His portrait consists of a single, very comfortable looking armchair which he liked to reside in, and a small table on which sat Fleamont’s favorite books, most of which were about famous duels that changed the world. Fleamont himself looked strong for an old man, wearing a scarlet robe and matching hat, which covered his baldness. He was short, and looked to have knobby knees.

“Hello dad,” James said as he sat down in his chair with a groan. He looked at the portrait and said, “What you’re here for? Why aren’t you in your painting at Potter Manor?”

“Because there are no Potters living in that place,” Fleamont said. “And I have decided to come here and talk to someone living, instead of our ancestors. There are only so many times you can hear my great grandfather Charlus tell the same story without going mad. I mean, I developed the Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion, and more than quadrupled our wealth, but you do not see me talk about it every day.”

“That’s because you would rather talk about the duels you fought in dad,” James sighed as he turned towards his desk again. He opened up a drawer and pulled out some papers with a frown.

“So? They are more interesting than almost sleeping with a banshee,” Fleamont chuckled. He looked at his son and frowned. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Where to begin?” James muttered bitterly.

“No muttering! Didn’t your mother and I taught you that?” Fleamont snapped.

“Sorry dad,” James said with a yawn. “Not in the mood. The Minister decided to put dementors in Hogwarts.”

“What!? That’s ludicrous! Dementors should stay at Azkaban where they belong!” Fleamont yelled.

“No need to tell me,” James said. He turned to look at the portrait and said, “I told the Minister and Shaklebolt that it’s dangerous countless times. And you know what happens? First Quidditch match of the season, and the damn dementors almost killed Harry!”

“They didn’t!?” Fleamont said, getting outraged. “Why if I had a portrait at the Ministry I’ll—well, times were so much better under Leonard Spencer-Moon, _and_ Wilhelmina Tuft! Especially Wilhelmina Tuft … son was an idiot though, breeding Dementors, _pah!_ ”

“Dad, focus,” James said. “Dementors made Harry fall from his broomstick during the match.”

“Is the boy alright?” Fleamont asked.

“Yes he is, Dumbledore stopped his fall,” James said. Fleamont nodded and muttered “Good man… good man. …” James ignored Fleamont’s interruption and continued. “Yes, and after I made sure he was all right in the hospital wing, I went to Dumbledore’s office to see him and the Minister having a shouting match.”

“I hoped you added your mind there, boy,” Fleamont said.

“I did,” James said, “and this morning at the Ministry. You know what is strange though, is that Malfoy was there and he was _agreeing_ with me!”

“A Malfoy agreeing with a Potter!” Fleamont exclaimed. “Why I thought I never see the day! What did you say that made the slimy snake to agree with you?”

“Basically that the dementors are dark creatures that the Ministry cannot fully control,” James said.

“And you are right!” Fleamont said. “Those dementors are truly uncontrollable. They only move by instinct. It is almost laughable seeing the Ministry trying to control them like that. Laughable!”

“Yes, well it cannot be laughable when those fucking creatures almost kill my only son!”

“Language James!” Fleamont said, standing from his chair. “You are angry at your pitiful Ministry, but that is no reason to curse at your father.”

“Yeah, well you’re right I am angry!” James said, his anger slowly taking the best of him. “My son almost died because of Fudge’s stupidity and instead he’s looking at Malfoy’s case where his idiot son went and got himself slashed by a hippogriff!”

“Did he die?” Fleamont asked.

“No, Malfoy’s son is alive. Though, they’re now talking about killing the hippogriff,” James said.

“Shame. World could use one less Malfoy in the world, oh well,” Fleamont shook his head. “Anyway, how is Harry doing in school? He better be doing better than you, James.”

“Of course he is,” James said. “He has his mother’s talent in potions, and mine in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Which you got from me!” Fleamont said. “Don’t you be taking all the credit.”

“Of course dad,” James said dismissively. “Other than that… he’s doing okay in his other subjects. He really likes Care of Magical Creatures, but I think only because Hagrid is teaching it.”

“The half-giant, yes,” Fleamont nodded. “You better tell me he’s coming over for Christmas.”

“Of course he is!” James said. “He came home his first or second year. Though, he might stay at Hogwarts… now being a teenager you know,” he smirked at his dad.

“No I wouldn’t, I haven’t been a teenager in over eighty years,” Fleamont declared. “Well, if he comes home, he better be talking about a girl. Nice to know the Potter line will be continuing.”

“I’m sure it’ll continue dad, don’t worry,” James said, not feeling like working anymore.

“Hmpt. Well, hopefully he won’t be indecisive like you were!” Fleamont said with a sudden distain.

“I wasn’t indecisive!” James said.

“Of course you weren’t,” Fleamont nodded. “Do you to tell the ancestors anything?”

“Just tell mum I love her, and still working on getting her portrait here,” James said.

Fleamont laughed. “Great! Now we can both annoy you while you work. See you James.” And with that, the old man stood up from his armchair and walked towards the edge of the portrait, disappearing as he walked through it. All that was left was an empty armchair, and the small pile of books on a small table.

James gave an exhausted sigh and looked down at the picture of Lily on his desk. “Saw Remus yesterday,” he told the motionless picture. “Must have been a full moon recently. … He’s married now you know? He and Sirius. … have a kid.” The room turned quiet as he stared at the photo. “Think I should write to them?”

There was a meow and he looked down to see Snuffles brushing against his leg. James bent down to pick him up. “What do you think Snuffles?” he asked.

The cat just meowed again and he nodded, “Yeah… nah.”

He dropped his cat near the floor, and watched as he ran away out the door. With the cat gone, and his moment of reflection done, James bent his back and started again on his work, uninterrupted by distance thoughts and cats.

Harry’s mood took a definite upturn the next few days. Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match at the end of November, and Professor Lupin-Black had agreed to give him anti-dementors lessons. Gryffindor were not out of the running after all, although they could not afford to lose another match. Wood became repossessed of his manic energy, and worked his team as hard as ever in the chilly haze of rain that persisted into December. Harry had received and given multiple letters to his dad, the last one asking if he was coming home for Christmas. Harry had thought about it, but decided to stay in the castle, though he was worried that his father would be alone with Snuffles on Christmas. James responded that he wouldn’t, though he loved his son’s concerns, and that he would spend Christmas Eve with some friends, and possibly visit Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for a bit on Christmas Day. He promised to send them Harry’s love, and wished him a Happy Christmas.

Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. The students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays. Both Ron and Hermione had decided to stay at Hogwarts with Harry, Ron saying he couldn’t stand two weeks Percy, and Hermione insisted she needed to use the library.

To everyone’s delight except Harry’s, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of the term. “We can do all our Christmas shopping there!” Hermione said. “Mum and Dad would really love those Toothflossing Stringmints from Honeydukes!”

The day before the trip, Harry and Draco met in secret, sitting in a deserted corridor. The statues and suits of armor all were dusted with snow. It seemed that someone had turned the statue’s weapons into giant candy canes, and charmed them to sing Christmas carols whenever a student passed by. “So… Christmas is coming,” Draco said.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. He looked at Draco and frowned, “It feels like I’m lying.”

“What does?”

“Everything. Hanging out with you in secret, not telling dad that I’m friends with Slytherins, … telling him that I like boys rather than girls. …”

Draco frowned and said, “Harry, one rule is that you must never be sad in my company.”

Harry smirked and couldn’t help but snicker, “Excuse me?”

“See, better. As for your… lying. You’re not lying Harry,” Draco said. “You’re just not telling the true yet. But if it bothers you so much… I’ll find a way to help it.”

“You will?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded. “Sure. In fact, I think I know the perfect thing that will help.”

“What is it?” Harry asked. Draco smirked at him and shook his head. “Sorry Potter, but I will not tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll have to wait till Christmas, you impatient brat,” Draco chuckled.

“If I’m so much of a brat, then why you hang out with me?” Harry smirked. The more Harry and Draco hung out together, the more Harry got used to the Slytherin’s snide comments.

Draco smirked and said, “Well, brat, it may be because you’re a cute lion whom would get me in so much trouble with my parents.” Harry blushed at being called ‘cute’—“ And also because, believe it or not I genuine enjoy being in your company, Harry.”

“Well… I enjoy being in your company as well,” Harry admitted.

“Of course you would,” Draco said. “I am the Ice Prince of Slytherin! I practically run the entire House.”

“Oh really?”

“How else did I get Crabbe and Goyle to keep them from following me?” Draco asked with a cocky smirk. “I command, they do. Simple as that.”

“Even Blaise?” Harry asked chuckling.

“Blaise? No I can never control Zabini,” Draco said. “I can never control my friend.”

“Really?” Harry asked. Draco shrugged, “I’m a nice guy Potter, honestly.”

Harry laughed and said, “I know you are Draco. It’s just surprising how much power you have in Slytherin.”

“What can I say?” Draco said, with a smirk, “I love being in control.” A shiver went down Harry’s spine, though he does not know why. He just smiled and nodded, feeling like Draco had another meaning to his words, but Harry couldn’t understand them.

“So what do you want for Christmas?” he asked Draco.

“You don’t need to get me anything,” Draco said.

“I want to, it’s unfair if I don’t,” Harry said.

Draco gave Harry a sharp look. “I do not want anything from you for Christmas Harry. Do not worry about it.”

Harry returned the look and shook his head. “Whatever you say Draco.”

Draco, believing he had won, smirked and stood up. He pulled Harry with him and again kissed his hand, an act that was quickly becoming a habit between the two. “Well then Harry, I will see you after holidays. Happy Christmas Harry.”

“Happy Christmas Draco.”


	8. Hogsmeade

Chapter 8

Hogsmeade

On the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Harry bid good-bye to Ron and Hermione, who were wrapped in cloaks and scarves, then turned up the marble staircase alone, and headed back toward Gryffindor Tower. Snow had started to fall outside the windows, and the castle was very still and quiet.

“Psst—Harry!”

He turned, halfway along the third-floor corridor, to see Fred and George peering out at him from behind a statue of a humpbacked one-eyed witch.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked curiously. “How come you’re not going to Hogsmeade?”

“We’ve come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go,” Fred said with a mysterious wink. “Come in here. …”

He nodded toward an empty classroom to the left of the one-eyed statue. Harry followed Fred and George inside, noting to himself how used he was becoming to meeting people in empty classrooms. George closed the door quietly and then turned, beaming to look at Harry.

“Early Christmas present for you, Harry,” he said.

“Yup, to our new favorite gay boy in the House,” Fred said as he pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it on one of the desks. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it. Harry, suspecting one of Fred and George’s jokes, stared at it.

“What’s that supposed to be?”

“This, Harry, is the secret to our success,” George said, patting the parchment fondly.

“It’s a wrench, giving it to you,” Fred said, “but we decided last night, your need’s greater than ours.”

“And what do I need with a bit of old parchment?” Harry said.

“A bit of old parchment!” Fred said, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Harry had mortally offended him. “Explain, George.”

“Well… when we were in our first year, Harry—young, carefree, and innocent—“

Harry snorted. He doubted whether Fred and George had ever been innocent.

“—well, more innocent than we are now—we got into a spot of bother with Filch.”

“We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason—“

“So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual—“

“—detention—“

“—disembowelment—“

“—and we couldn’t help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous_.”

“Don’t tell me—“ Harry said, starting to grin.

“Well, what would you’ve done?” Fred said. “George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed— _this_.”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, you know,” George said. “We don’t rekon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn’t have confiscated it.”

“And you know how it works?”

“Oh yes,” Fred said, smirking. “This little beauty’s taught us more than all the teachers in this school.”

George smirked and took out his wand. He touched the parchment lightly, and said, _“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”_

And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider’s web from the point that George’s wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment’ then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:

_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present_

**THE MARAUDER’S MAP**

It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Harry bent over it. A labeled dot in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore was pacing his study; and Peeves the Poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room. And as Harry’s eyes traveled up and down the familiar corridors, he noticed something else.

This map showed a set of passages he had never entered. And many of them seemed to lead—

“Right into Hogsmeade,” Fred said, tracing one of them with his finger. “There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four”—he pointed them out—“but we’re sure we’re the only ones who know about these. Don’t bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it’s caved in—completely blocked. And we don’t reckon anyone’s ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow’s planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We’ve used it loads of times. And as you might’ve noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that statue.”

“Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,” George sighed. “We owe them so much. If only we can shake their hands.”

“Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of law-breakers,” Fred said solemnly.

“Right,” George said briskly. “Don’t forget to wipe it after you’ve used it—“

“—or anyone can read it,” Fred said warningly.

“Just put your wand on the map, and say ‘Mischief Managed!’ And it’ll go black.”

“So, young, twink Harry,” Fred said, in an uncanny impersonation of Percy, “mind you behave yourself.”

“See you in Honeydukes,” George said, winking.

They left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way. Fred looked at George and said, “We’re raising him right George.”

“I agree Fred,” George smirked. “Nice idea deciding to give it to him.”

“Thank you brother, but you deserve credit for convincing me,” Fred said. They both laughed and started talking about what they wanted to buy at Hogsmeade. When they turned a corner, they saw a boy standing there, as if waiting for them. “George,” he said, looking angry.

“What do you want?” Fred asked, glaring at the boy in Slytherin robes.

“None of your business Weasley, I want to talk to my boyfriend,” the Slytherin said.

“I am _not_ your boyfriend,” George said. “We broke up two days ago.”

“No, we did not,” the Slytherin brute said, taking a step towards the Weasley twins. Fred glared at the boy as he seemed to step into the firelight, revealing his features. He was tall and relatively muscular, his shifty grey eyes glaring at the older Weasley twin as he automatically took a step in front of his brother. His normally large teeth was fixed, thanks to a charm George cast on their fifth date. “He is my boyfriend, for as long as I say he is,” he said.

“Sod off Flint!” Fred said. “If George says you’re through, then you’re through.”

Marcus Flint looked between Fred and George and scowled. “You’ll see George. You belong to me.”

“We said sod off!” George yelled. Flint just smirked before turning around and leaving. Fred turned around to Fred and said, “I can’t believe that guy! Why don’t you just tell McGonagall or Dumbledore?”

“Because he technically hasn’t done anything yet,” George said. He shook his head and looked up at Fred. “I cannot believe that bastard. I’ve told him again and again that we’re done but the troll keeps coming back.”

“Why did you date him in the first place?” Fred asked. They doubled back and walked down the corridor they just went through. George looked at his twin brother and said, “Because he was the only gay guy I knew at the time?”

“That’s a good point…” Fred said. He looked at George and said, “There’s Harry now.”

“Too weird, it’ll be incesty,” George said. “Besides, he’s Ron’s mate.”

“Yeah,” Fred nodded. “And the way he looks at Malfoy, seems like he’s taken.”

“Already?” George gasped. “Wow…”

“Yeah… know what? You figure out a way to keep Flint from ruining our fun, and I’ll find a guy for you!” Fred smirked.

“You’ll do that?” George asked, having a similar smirk.

“Of course, it’ll be fun! Now come on, I want to load up in Honeydukes before heading towards Zonko’s!”

The twins hastened their steps as they went towards the grand staircase, joining the crowd at the entrance hall as they made their way towards Hogsmeade.

After a long hour of walking, Harry came to the foot of some worn stone steps, which rose out of sight above him. Careful not to make any noise, Harry began to climb. A hundred steps, two hundred steps, he lost count as he climbed, watching his feet. …Then, without warning, his head hit something hard.

It seemed to be a trapdoor. Harry stood there, massaging the top of his head, listening. He couldn’t hear any sounds above him. Very slowly, he pushed the trapdoor open and peered over the edge. He was in a cellar, which was full of wooden crates and boxes. Harry climbed out of the trapdoor and replaced it—it blended so perfectly with the dusty floor that it was impossible to tell it was there. Harry crept towards the wooden staircase and started to climb them. He could definitely heard voices now, not to mention the tinkle of a bell and opening and shutting of a door.

He opened the door at the top of the wooden staircase, and found himself behind the counter of Honeydukes—he ducked crept sideways, and then straightened up.

Honeydukes was so crowded with Hogwarts students that no one looked twice at Harry. He edged among them, looking around, smiling when an idea came to him as he knew exactly what to buy Draco.

There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-colored toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavor Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizbees, the levitating sherbet balls that Ron had mentioned; along yet another wall were “Special Effects” sweets: Droobles Best Blowing Gum, the strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringments, tiny black Pepper Imps, Ice Mice, peppermint creams shaped like toads, fragile sugar-spun quills, and exploding bonbons.

Harry squeezed himself through a crowd of sixth years and saw a sign hanging in the farthest corner of the shop. Ron and Hermione were standing underneath it, examining a tray of blood-flavored lollipops. Harry sneaked up to them.

“Ugh, no, Harry won’t want one of thoses, they’re for vampires, I expect,” Hermione was saying.

“How about these?” Ron said, shoving a jar of Cockroach Clusters under Hermione’s nose.

“Definitely, not,” Harry said.

Ron nearly dropped the jar.

“Harry!” Hermione squealed.”What are you doing here? How—how did you—?”

“Wow!” Ron said, looking very impressed, “you’ve learned to Apparate!”

“’Course I haven’t,” Harry said. “I’m only thirteen!” He dropped his voice so that none of the sixth years could hear him and told them all about the Marauder’s Map.

“How come Fred and George never gave it to me!” Ron said outraged. “I’m their brother!”

“But Harry isn’t going to keep it!” Hermione said, as though the idea was ludicrous. “he’s going to give it to Professor McGonagall, aren’t you Harry?”

“As if,” Harry snorted.

“Are you mad?” Ron said, goggling at Hermione. “Hand in something that good?”

“If I hand it in, I’ll have to say where I got it! Filch would know Fred and George nicked it!”

But—but—“ Hermione said, trying to think of an argument. Harry shook his head, “We can argue about this later, but for now I need your help.”

“What?” Ron asked.

“I need your help picking some sweets,” Harry said. “I’m thinking of sending some to dad.”

“Oh… alright,” Hermione said. Harry gave her a quick smile. Technically, he wasn’t lying. He does intend to give some of the sweets to his dad for Christmas, but mostly he wanted a chance to stop the argument.

The trio went around the tightly packed shop, and Ron and Hermione pointed out some of their favorite sweets. “These floss your teeth as you eat them,” Hermione said as she pulled out a Toothflossing Stringmint, “I’m getting some for my parents. I’m sure your dad’ll like it.”

Harry just nodded and held on to it. “Dad loves Cauldron Cakes,” he said as he reached over to grab five small wrapped cakes. He tried to remember what Draco had brought him, wishing that he had asked the Ice Prince what his favorite candies were. He decided to go safe, picking chocolate bar after chocolate bar. He stopped at a small tray and pointed it at it, “Crystallized pineapple,” he said. “Dad hates those, he said a professor of his always ate them during class.”

“Really?” Hermione asked, “Who was it?”

Harry tried to remember but shook his head, “I don’t remember, sorry. Pretty sure he was a Potions professor. Dad says mum loved him.”

“A good potions professor?” Ron said, unbelieving. “The world’s gone mad then.”

Harry and Hermione laughed as they went to the counter. Harry paid for the candy, and held onto the bag. As they left the store, Harry noticed a notice pasted on the inside of the sweetshop door.

**—By Order Of—**

**THE MINISTER OF MAGIC**

_Customers are reminded that until further notice, dementors will be patrolling the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the finishing of this trial. It is therefore advisable that you complete your shopping well before nightfall._

_Merry Christmas!_

“Ron,” Hermione said once they were out of the shop. “Look, Harry still shouldn’t be coming into Hogsmeade He hasn’t got a signed form! If anyone finds out, he’ll be in so much trouble!”

“People’ll have a job spotting Harry in this,” Ron said, nodding through the mullioned windows at the thick, swirling snow. “Come on Hermione, it’s Christmas. Harry deserves a break.”

Hermione bit her lip, looking extremely worried. “Fine,” she said after a while. “But I still think Harry should show the map to Professor McGonagall.”

The three of them left Honeydukes for the blizzard outside. Hogsmeade looked like a Christmas card; the little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees.

Harry shivered; unlike the other two, he didn’t have his cloak. They headed up the street, heads bowed against the wind, Ron and Hermione shouting through their scarves.

“That’s the post office—“

“Zonko’s is up there—“

“We could go up to the Shrieking Shack—“

“Tell you what,” Ron said, his teeth clattering, “shall we go for a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks?”

Harry was more than willing; the wind was fierce and his hands were freezing, so they crossed the road, and in a few minutes were entering the tiny inn. It was extremely crowded, noisy, warm, and smoky. A curvy sort of woman with a pretty face was serving a bunch of rowdy warlocks up at the bar.

“That’s Madam Rosmerta,” Ron said. “I’ll get the drinks, shall I?” he added, going slightly red.

Harry and Hermione made their way to the back of the room, where there was a small, vacant table between the window and a handsome Christmas tree, which stood next to the fireplace. Ron came back five minutes later, carrying three foaming tankards of hot butterbeer.

“Merry Christmas!” he said happily, raising his tankard.

Harry drank deeply. It was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted and seemed to heat every bit of him inside. “Look out,” Ron said, looking off somewhere. “Malfoy’s here, the git.”

Harry and Hermione turned to see that Ron was right. Draco Malfoy was sitting in a booth at the opposite side of the tavern, along with his usual lackeys of Crabbe and Goyle, who were sitting on the outside of the booth. Harry saw that Blaise was there, sitting across from Draco. “What are they doing here?” Ron growled.

“Don’t worry about them,” Harry said turning in his seat, hoping that the Slytherins didn’t see them.

“You better keep your head down, Harry,” Hermione said. “No saying what Malfoy would do if he knows you’re here.”

“Would probably go running to Snape, the—“

“ _Ron!_ ”

“Well, he would!” Ron said. Hermione gave him a sharp look, but shook her head. “Just lay low until he’s gone, Harry,” she said instead.

Harry nodded, concluding that his first visit to Hogsmeade is not the best place to tell Ron and Hermione about his new friendship with Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. “Who’s the other guy, I wonder?” Ron said, glancing back at the four Slytherins. “Not Crabbe and Goyle, the one talking to Malfoy.”

“Blaise Zabini,” Harry said almost immediately. The two looked at him, and he shrugged. “I remember Flitwick calling his name,” he lied. They took the answer and nodded, looking at Blaise and Draco.

“Never saw anyone else speaking to Malfoy,” Hermione said. “Wonder what he’s doing.”

“Who cares,” Ron shrugged. “Probably some slimy Slytherin stuff.”

Harry didn’t want to comment. Instead he asked, “What’s the Shrieking Shack?”

Ron and Hermione looked back at Harry. “It’s said to be the most haunted building in Britain. People here reported hearing screams coming from inside.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, nodding. “But when the people here go to see, it’s empty.”

Harry frowned at that, and took another drink of his butterbeer. They spent most of the afternoon in the Three Broomsticks, Ron nor Hermione not wanting to go out and show Harry more of Hogsmeade in this weather. Near the end of the afternoon, the three was walking in the blizzard, when Harry felt something strange. He looked around and saw Draco, standing in the snow smirking. Their eyes connected, and Harry felt… weird. He didn’t know what happened, but he felt as if Draco had stared directly at his soul, and it affected him. It was as if he was walking in a daze. Harry didn’t have a clear idea of how he had managed to get back into the Honeydukes cellar, through the tunnel, and into the castle once more. All he knew was that the return trip seemed to take no time at all, and that he hardly noticed what he was doing.

He tried his best to act innocent during the dinner, and afterwards quickly returned to the Gryffindor Tower. He did not want to deal with Fred and George, who had set off half a dozen Dungbombs in a fit of end-of-term high spirits. He sneaked quietly up to the empty dormitory and headed straight for his bed.

He closed the bed curtains and just laid in his bed. He didn’t know why he felt so weird, Draco just looked at him, as he has done multiple times. But this time… it felt weird, as if Draco could see him clearly, more clearly than anyone has seen him. He felt something stirring and looked down. His pants started to feel tight and uncomfortable. He shrugged off his robes and kicked off his shoes, laying down in only pants, button-downed shirt, and his tie. His pants started to feel tighter, so he quickly took them off, revealing his underwear, which was tented.

Curious, Harry took off the rest of his clothes until only he was in his underwear. He looked down and blushed as he took a look at his body. Somehow, it felt different—looked different. He was lean, his skin pale with hints of sun. There was no hints or showings of muscles, but he still looked obviously healthy. His nipples were plump and pink, the nubs erect from the cold drafty air. There was not a hint of hair on his body, and Harry couldn’t help but drag his hands down from his chest and towards his underwear, shivering and loving the feeling of heat against his skin.

It felt… good, and Harry’s hands hooked on the edge of his tight underwear, the tent now provident as he slowly pulled it down, revealing his dick. Hard, it looked about five inches, the head of the cock brightly pink and shiny looking from a weird liquid that was coming out. Harry wiped a finger over the top of his dick and gave a gasp. His dick reacted by twitching and more of the clearish liquid came out. He brought it to his lips and stick his tongue out, licking his finger. It tasted… good. Whatever it was, Harry loved the taste. Something inside him started to stir, he wanted more, he needed more. A primal urge rose in Harry, and Harry let it take control of him.

His hand went down and grabbed his dick at the base. The same twitch happened and Harry’s mouth opened as a moan escaped his lips. His hand started to move up the length of his dick, squeezing as he did so. He moaned and bit his lip as he stroke his dick. His other hand, acting on the primal instinct, moved towards his plump nipples and started playing with them, squeezing and pulling them. He loved the feeling of having his body touched, pulled, played with. He felt like he just needed more. More touching, more pulling, more playing. The harder he pinched and pulled his nipples, the faster he stroke his dick, now fully leaking with the clear liquid. His mouth hung open, small moans and gasps coming out before he enunciated, “Da-Dray—Draco! Ahhh!”

Then, as if without warning, he felt like he was about to burst with pee. He tried to stop it, but it was too late, the feeling was overwhelming and he screamed as the sensation took over his body, his dick pulsing and pushing. But it wasn’t the clearish yellow liquid waste he was expecting, but instead thick ropes of a sticky hot white substance squirted from his dick, covering the head easily and arcing to splash onto his chest and stomach. Rope after rope came out until finally, his dick started to soften, and the ropes just started to dribble out of his penis. Sweat-slicken and red faced, Harry reached for the sticky substance and swiped it with his finger.

Again, like he did with the clearish liquid, he brought it to his mouth and licked it clean. This was it! This was what he needed! This pleasurable substance that he just instantly loved. It was salty, yet, and musky but it tasted like heaven! Pure, dirty heaven! Still going off from the animalistic urges, he scooped up as much of the substance he could get and licked his fingers clean. He did this again and again until his body was clean, with not a drop of the stickiness in sight.

With the deed done, the primal urges slowly swept away from Harry, his brain starting to feel heavier, as did his eyes, as exhaustion took hold of him. He was barely able to take his glasses off and place them on the bedside table before he succumbed to the tiredness, naked and on top of his bed.

Harry had awoken to find the dormitory deserted, dressed, and gone down the spiral staircase to a common room that was completely empty except for Ron, who was eating a Peppermint Toad, and massaging his stomach, and Hermione, who had spread her homework over three tables.

“Where is everyone?” Harry said.

“Gone! It’s the first day of the holidays, remember?” Ron said, watching Harry closely. “It’s nearly lunchtime; I was going to come and wake you up in a minute.”

Harry slumped into a chair next to the fire. Snow was still falling outside the windows. Crookshanks was spread out in front of the fire like a large, ginger rug.

“Let’s go down to Hagrid’s,” Ron said. “We haven’t visited him for ages!”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Harry said, sitting up. They got their cloaks from their dormitories and set off through the portrait hole, down through the empty castle and out through the oak front doors. They made their way slowly down the lawn, making a shallow trench in the glittering powdery snow, their socks and the hems of their cloaks soaked and freezing. The Forbidden Forest looked as though it had been enchanted, each tree smattered with silver, and Hagrid’s cabin looked like an iced cake.

Ron knocked, but there was no answer.

“He’s not out, is he?” Hermione asked, who was shivering under her cloak. Ron had his ear to the door.

“There’s a weird noise,” he said. “Listen—is that Fang?”

Harry and Hermione put their ears to the door too. From inside the cabin came a series of low, throbbing moans.

“Think we’d better go and get someone?” Ron said, nervously.

“Hagrid!” Harry called, thumping the door. “Hagrid, are you in there?”

There was a sound of heavy footsteps, then the door creaked open. Hagrid stood there with his eyes red and swollen, tears splashing down the front of his leather vest.

“Yeh’ve heard?” he bellowed, and he flung himself on to Harry’s neck.

Hagrid being at least twice the size of a normal man, this was no laughing matter. Harry, about to collapse under Hagrid’s weight, was rescued by Ron and Hermione, who each seized Hagrid under an arm and heaved him back into the cabin. Hagrid allowed himself to be steered into a chair and slumped over the table, sobbing uncontrollably, his face glazed with tears that dripped down into his tangled beard.

“Hagrid, what _is_ it?” Hermione said, aghast.

Harry spotted an official-looking letter lying open on the table. “What’s this Hagrid?”

Hagrid’s sobs redoubled, but he shoved the letter toward Harry, who picked it up and read aloud:

_Dear, Mr. Hagrid,_

_Further to our inquiry into the attack by a hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurance of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident._

_However, we must register our concern about the hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20 th, and we ask you to present yourself and your hippogriff at the Committee’s offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated._

_Yours in fellowship …_

There followed a list of the school governors.

“Oh,” Ron said. “But you said Buckbeak isn’t a bad hippogriff, Hagrid. I bet he’ll get off—“

“Yeh don’ know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o’ Dangerous Creatures!” Hagrid choked, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “They’ve got it in fer interestin’ creatures!”

A sudden sound from the corner of Hagrid’s cabin made harry, Ron, and Hermione whip around. Buckbeak was lying in the corner, chomping on something that was oozing blood all over the floor.

“I couldn’ leave him tied up out there in the snow!” Hagrid choked. “All on his own! At Christmas!”

“You’ll have to put up a good defense, Hagrid,” Hermione said, sitting down and laying a hand on Hagrid’s massive forearm. “I’m sure you can prove Buckbeak is safe.”

“Won’t make no diff’rence!” Hagrid sobbed. “Them Disposal devils, they’re all in Lucius Malfoy’s pocket! Scared o’ him! An’ if I lose the case, Buckbeak—“

“Listen Hagrid, you can’t give up,” Harry said. “Hermione’s right, you just need a good defense. You can call us as witnesses—“

“I’m sure I’ve read about a case of hippogriff-baiting,” Hermione said thoughtfully, “where the hippogriff got off. I’ll look it up for you, Hagrid, and see exactly what happened.”

Hagrid howled still more loudly. Harry and Hermione Looked at Ron to help them.

“Er—shall I make a cup of tea?” Ron said. Harry stared at him. “It’s what my mum does whenever someone’s upset,” Ron muttered, shrugging.

Harry’s thought turned to Draco, it was his fault Hagrid is in this mess. If they are going to be… whatever they are, then he needs to make Draco do—something, anything to help the innocent hippogriff.

At last, after many more assurances of help, with a steaming mug of tea in front of him, Hagrid blew his nose on a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth and said, “Yer right. I can’ afford to go ter pieces. Gotta pull meself together. …”

James Potter woke up exhausted on Christmas morning. He had spent some time last night with co-workers from the Ministry, who were mostly single young wizards who had no significant others to spend the holiday with, and not wanting to go visit their families yet. They were nice, James remembered that he had personally trained most of the Aurors in the group, but either due to his age or just general tiredness, he could not have kept up with them. While the young aurors have tried stories over eggnog and firewhiskey, James have kept to butterbeer, and just nodded when the men’s conversation turned to more lewd topics, as all drunken men’s conversations tend to do. It was at this point that he decided to leave his co-workers where they are, and returned to his office where he continued on his case for removing the dementors from Harry. It was nearly midnight when he returned home, and nearly nine when he woke up.

“What I need,” he said to no one in particular, “is a full day of sleeping. Just one day. That is if the Ministry would give me that.”

He walked out of his bedroom and down the stairs into the kitchen. “Mornin’ Snuffles,” he yawned when he walked past his cat, who was waiting by his food bowl. James started making coffee and turned to fill Snuffles’s bowl. “Eat up there,” he said. When his coffee was ready, he filled a cup, and went into the living room, where a small Christmas Tree stood in a corner, amateurishly decorated. Snuffles followed him and meowed. “I know,” James chuckled. “This was more of Lily’s thing. And Harry’s, lord knows both are way better at Christmas decorating than I am.”

Under the tree stood a few presents, and James was surprised, and smiled when he saw that one of the few presents was from Harry. He immediately picked up the small parcel and noticed a note was written on it.

_Dad,_

_Sorry I’m not there to spend the holidays with you. There’s something I actually want to talk to you about, but I’ll do it during the next break. Anyway, Happy Christmas._

_Love,_

_Harry._

Excited, confused, and concerned, James unwrapped the parcel and pulled out its contents. Candy. It was a box of candy from Honeydukes, James made sure to be very familiar with Honeydukes while he was at Hogwarts. He opened the box and smirked. There were Cauldron Cakes, his favorite, some bars of Honeydukes Best Chocolate, Nougat chunks, and, much to James’s ire and laughter, a small box of crystallized pineapples. He looked at the box and smirked. There was no way Harry would have asked his friends to buy any of these for him. “That little cheeky weasel,” he smirked, feeling very proud. “I knew it. I knew he would find a way. Ha!”

He took a bite out of a Cauldron Cake and moaned, “Still as delicious as ever,” he said.

“I see you’re stuffing yourself as ever,” Fleamont Potter said as he walked into his portrait.

“Gift from Harry,” James said after he swallowed. “Remember how I didn’t sign his permission form for Hogsmeade?”

“Yes, you said it was for his own protection,” Fleamont said. “A fact that I both agree and disagree with. I mean, there are dementors there now after all.”

James nodded and couldn’t help but smirk. “Yeah, I did it for his own protection, but I had another reason.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” James smirked. “After all, he does steal the Invisibility Cloak from me every year term starts. So, I just knew that he would find his way to Hogsmeade.”

“Really?” Fleamont asked as he started chuckling. “What’s that muggle expression again…? Like father like son?”

“Like father, like son,” James nodded. “And you thought he was going to be a goody-two shoes!”

“I would never use that language! Too juvenile!” Fleamont said.

That caused James to laugh out loud. “Juvenile!? You said that after I told you Harry left for Hogwarts first year!”

“I did not,” Fleamont denied. James just shook his head again and said, “Well, he’s my son. That much is proven now. Now, if you excuse me dad, I have some things to do before I visit Molly and Arthur.”

“And what is so important that you cannot visit Potter Manor?” Fleamont asked.

“Many things, such as the dementor problem,” James said. He looked at the rest of the presents and checked who sent them, “Ha, Molly sent me a sweater…told her not to,” before looking at the portrait again. “Sorry dad, I’ll visit some other time. Right now… I have a lot on my plate.”

“All right, all right, fine,” Fleamont said. “You better bring your mother’s portrait here though, it’s getting annoying being the only one who can come here.”

“I know, I know,” James said. “I already have a guy who’s going to paint it. He’s coming here the thirteenth of January.”

“Good,” Fleamont nodded. “Well… Happy Christmas son.”

“Happy Christmas, dad,” James said. He waited until his father was gone from his portrait before exhaling. Lately, old feelings were haunting James. Feelings that he thought he buried a long time ago.

On Christmas morning, Harry was woken by Ron throwing his pillow at him.

“Oy! Presents!”

Harry reached for his glasses and put them on, squinting through the semi-darkness to the foot of his bed, where a small heap of parcels had appeared. Ron was already ripping the paper off his own presents.

“Another sweater from Mum …maroon _again_ …see if you’ve got one.”

Harry had, Mrs. Weasley had sent him a scarlet sweater with the Gryffindor lion knitted on the front, also a dozen home-baked mice pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of nut brittle. His dad had got him a book of famous Quidditch plays, as well as a small book filled with potions with interesting and joking results. There was also a small, neatly wrapped package with a card from Draco. Harry hid the card and present from Ron’s view as he read the card.

_Harry,_

_I hope you’re having a wonderful Christmas. Do you remember when you told me that you feel like you are lying both with hanging out with me and Blaise, and your sexuality? Well, I’ve found a book that I hope will help you. It’s a diary. Found it in Father’s library long ago hidden away. It seems like it had a previous owner, but he never wrote on it. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you anything better. I just thought that this is what you need best._

_Yours,_

_Draco_

Harry couldn’t help but smile as he read the letter. He didn’t mind that the book, which still laid wrapped on his lap, was old, the thought and feeling mattered more to Harry. This truly shows that Draco was listening… was caring about him. The smile remained as he placed the card on his lap and picked up the pristinely wrapped gift. Carefully, as if ripping would ruin everything, Harry unwrapped the gift and brought out the book.

The diary was a small black leathered book with worn out pages. The diary was beaten, looking as if it stood the test of time for at least half a century. Harry opened the diary and flipped through the pages. As Draco said, there was nothing written on any of the pages. He guessed that the original owner just brought it, but didn’t decide to write in it at the end of the day. He wondered how Draco’s father got the diary, but put it in the back of his mind as he remembered he needed to talk to Draco about Buckbeak.

He placed the card and diary on his bed and moved back to the pile. He saw a long, thin package lying underneath at the bottom of the pile.

“What’s that?” Ron asked, looking over, a freshly unwrapped pair of maroon socks in his hand. …

“Dunno…”

Harry ripped the parcel open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolled out onto his bedspread. Ron dropped his socks and jumped off his bed for a closer look.

“I don’t believe it,” he said hoarsely.

It was a Firebolt. Its handle glittered as he picked it up. He could feel it vibrating and let go; it hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right height for him to mount it. His eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, right to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.

“Did your dad sent that?” Ron said in a hushed voice.

“I don’t think so… he would have mentioned… look and see if there’s a card,” Harry said.

Ron ripped apart the Firebolt’s wrappings. “Nothing! Blimey, who’d spend that much on you?”

“I do not know…” Harry said, still amazed at the gift.

“I bet it was Dumbledore,” Ron said, now walking around and around the Firebolt, taking in every glorious inch.

“He wouldn’t spend hundreds of Galleons on me,” Harry said. “He can’t go giving students stuff like this—“

“That’s why he wouldn’t say it was from him!” Ron said. “In case some git like Malfoy said it was favoritism. Hey Harry, _Malfoy!_ Wait till he sees you on this! He’ll be sick as a pig! This is an international standard broom, this is!”

“I can’t believe this,” Harry muttered, running a hand along the Firebolt, while Ron sank onto Harry’s bed, laughing his head off at the thought of Draco.

Harry ignored the laughter as he stared at the Firebolt. His own _Firebolt!_ Harry couldn’t believe that he owned one. Though, he couldn’t help but wonder who sent him this. There was no way it was his dad… or Draco… and Blaise gave him chocolates… the possible subjects spun through his head as both he and Ron just gazed and inspected the broomstick.


	9. Confessions

Chapter 9

Confessions

After opening their presents, Ron and Harry went down to the common room where Hermione was waiting with Crookshanks. Ron, who had Scabbers in his pocket, yelled at Hermione to keep the cat away from him. Crookshanks kept staring at Ron’s pocket until they left, struggling against Hermione’s hold as he tried to grab the old rat.

At lunch time the Golden Trio went down to the Great Hall, to find that the House tables had been moved against the walls again, and that a single table, set for twelve, stood in the middle of the room. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a very old and rather moldy-looking tailcoat. There were only three other students, two extremely nervous-looking first years and a sullen-faced Slytherin fifth year.

“Merry Christmas!” Dumbledore said as Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached the table. “As there are so few of us, it seems foolish to use the House tables. …Sit down, sit down!”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down side by side at the end of the table.

“Crackers!” Dumbledore said enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver noisemaker to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witch’s hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

Harry, remembering the boggart, caught Ron’s eye and they both grinned; Snape’s mouth thinned and he pushed the hat toward Dumbledore, who swapped it for his wizard’s hat at once.

“Dig in!” he advised the table, beaming around.

As Harry was helping himself to roast potatoes, the doors of the Great hall opened again. It was Professor Trelawney, gliding toward them as though on wheels. She had on a green sequined dress in honor of the occasion, making her look more than ever like a glittering, oversized dragonfly.

“Sibyll, this is a pleasant surprise!” Dumbledore said, standing up.

“I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster,” Professor Trelawney said in her mistiest, most faraway voice, “and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness. …”

“Certainly, certainly,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. “Let me draw you up a chair—“

And he did indeed draw a chair in midair with his wand, which revolved for a few second before falling with a thud between Professors Snape and McGonagall. Professor Trelawney, however, did not sit down; her enormous eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream.

“I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!”

“We’ll risk it, Sibyll,” Professor McGonagall said impatiently. “Do sit down, the turkey’s getting stone cold.”

Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen.

“Tripe, Sibyll?”

Professor Trelawney ignored her. Eyes open again, she looked around once more and said, “But where is dear Professor Lupin-Black?”

“I’m afraid the poor fellow is ill again,” Dumbledore said, indicating that everyone should start serving themselves. “Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day. And he was going to visit his family as well.”

“But surely you already knew that, Sibyll?” Professor McGonagall said, her eyebrows raised.

Professor Trelawney gave Professor McGonagall a very cold look. “Certainly I knew, Minerva,” she said quietly. “But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous.”

“That explains a great deal,” Professor McGonagall said tartly. Professor Trelawney’s voice suddenly became a good deal less misty.

“If you must know, Minerva. I have seen that poor Professor Lupin-Black will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gave for him—“

“Imagine that,” McGonagall said dryly.

“I doubt,” Dumbledore said in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney’s conversation, “that Professor Lupin-Black is in any immediate danger. Severus, you’ve made the potion for him again?”

“Yes, Headmaster,” Snape said.

“Good,” Dumbledore said. “Then he should be up and about in no time. …Derek, have you any of these chipolatas? They’re excellent.”

The first-year boy went furiously red on being addressed directly by Dumbledore, and took the platter of sausages with trembling hands.

Professor Trelawney behaved almost normally until the very end of Christmas dinner, two hours later. Full to bursting with Christmas dinner and still wearing their party hats, Harry and Ron got up first from the table and she shrieked loudly.

“My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?”

“Dunno,” Ron said, looking uneasily at Harry.

“I doubt it will make much difference,” Professor McGonagall said coldly, “unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the entrance hall.”

Even Ron laughed. Professor Trelawney looked highly affronted.

“Coming?” Harry said to Hermione.

“In a bit,” Hermione muttered.

Harry and Ron nodded and left the entrance hall. “That was awkward,” Ron yawned as they made their way into the entrance hall, which was completely devoid of mad axe-men. When they reached the portrait hole, they found the Fat Lady enjoying a Christmas party with her best friend Violet. “Password?” she said, her cheeks clearly flushed.

“Fortuna Major,” Ron said.

“Yup!” Violet toasted as the painting swung open to admit them.

Harry went straight to the dormitory, collected his Firebolt, the Broomstick Servicing Kit Hermione had given him, and the diary Draco gave him, and brought them downstairs.

“Meant to ask,” Ron said. “Who sent you the book?” he asked, pointing to the black diary. Harry’s cheeks flushed as he placed the Firebolt and kit gently on the coffee table in between the armchairs.

“Well… it’s a long story,” Harry said.

Ron looked at him curiously as they sat down in opposite armchairs, the diary and Firebolt between them. “Pretty sure we got time, mate,” he said.

Harry nodded and looked at Ron. “Just don’t interrupt alright?”

Ron gave a slightly sour look, “Please tell me you’re not doing… _that_ already!”

“That?” Harry asked, confused.

Ron gave him a look and said with relief, “Never mind. Go ahead.”

“Alright… well, you know how I’m gay right?”

“Yeah,” Ron said nodding.

“Well… I didn’t exactly figure that out by myself…” Harry began. “It began in the start of the year. I started noticing different things… like Seamus’ brogue, or how deep Wood’s voice is… how nice they smell… and I was confused. Like, really confused, I had no idea what was going on. Then on the day Malfoy provoked Buckbeak, I visited him in the hospital wing. I didn’t know why I decided to do that, but I did, and I’ve dressed his wounds just as dad taught me when I was young. I’ve told him about it, but Malfoy being Malfoy, he basically spat back at me. So I left and it’s there I’ve met Blaise.

“Blaise Zabini… yes Ron, he is in Slytherin,” Harry said when he noticed his friend’s face. Ron’s scowl softened and he remained quiet. “I was cautious like you, and stand offish, but he convinced me to talk to him. So I did. We’ve met in empty classrooms multiple times, and walked down empty corridors, and I started to really like him. Then, one day, Blaise convinced Malfoy to meet with me in an empty classroom. This was… I think around the first Hogsmeade weekend, no before. We talked about our families, and figured out how similar we both are actually are… even down to how we’re both gay—“

“You mean Draco Malfoy likes blokes?” Ron interrupted, with a certain grin.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

Ron couldn’t help but give a short laugh, “Should have known! Considering his hair! Looks like he takes hours doing it.”

Harry gave a laugh and smiled, “Actually, more like an hour… hour in a half on weekends.” They both shared a small laugh and Ron apologized for interrupting. “Anyway,” Harry continued. “We’ve started talking and became friends. … On the day before the first Hogsmeade meeting, Draco—I mean Malfoy, brought me from the group at the end of Defense and he promised to get me chocolate from Hogsmeade, which he did. That was right before you and Hermione gave me the lot you two brought. Blaise and I had a friendly bet on the first Quidditch match but… well, you know what happened.

“But anyways, Draco and I met more and more often and we’ve genuinely became friends. And we agreed that after the Gryffindor/ Slytherin Quidditch match, we’ll take our friendship outside the classrooms. I’ve told him that I’ve felt like I’m… like I’m lying. To my dad, to everyone. Not only by not telling dad I’m gay, but by having two friendships in secret. So to help that… Draco gave me the diary as a Christmas present. And umm that’s that.” Harry finished. He looked up at Ron, waiting for his reaction or outburst.

Ron’s face hid his emotions as he processed everything Harry told him. He stared at Harry for a long time, each second Harry was expecting a loud, curse filled outburst. Then, finally, Ron said “You’re mates with Malfoy… Malfoy! The git who called Hermione a Mudblood. The git who got us in trouble in our first year when we helped Hagrid with Norbert! The git—the damn git who’s constantly mocking us, treats us like crap and is the reason for Buckbeak getting in trouble. That git!?”

Harry blushed and looked down. “Look, yes he’s a git, I understand that,” he began. “But I’m working on that part. I’m angry about all of that too, and as soon as the holiday’s up, you better believe I’ll be yelling at him. Dad’s working his best to stop the stupid trail, and I’m working on Malfoy. He’s a prat but… but he’s trying. He listened to me and got me this diary so that I can just write my thoughts whenever I feel like I’m lying.”

“I don’t know… Harry, if you were going to befriend a Slytherin like that, why could you stick to Zabini? He sounds like a much better person,” Ron argued.

Harry, remembering all the questions Blaise asked about Ron, blushed and shook his head. “It’s complicated… look, please don’t be angry at me, alright?”

“I’m not angry at you Harry,” Ron said. “I just don’t trust Malfoy with you. He’s a prat who doesn’t care about anyone.”

“He does care,” Harry argued. “Look. Just trust me, okay? If it’s true what you say, that he’s a prat and will always be a git, then I’ll stop talking to him and instead focus on Blaise or someone else, alright? It’s just that… he makes me feel happy. He understands things that others can’t.”

Ron gave a defeated sigh, “Alright fine. But if I’m right, you’ll let me deal with him the Muggle way, okay?”

“Of course Ron,” Harry said. They both agreed, Ron smirking at the idea of hitting Malfoy as he turned his attention to the diary. “So… he gave you this?” he said as he flipped through the pages. “It’s old, and nothing’s written on it.”

“I know, it’s strange,” Harry said. “Draco told me it’s over fifty years old… guess who ever got it never wrote in it.”

Ron nodded and gave it to Harry. Harry opened the cover and noticed something that he didn’t notice the first time. “T.M. Riddle,” he read. He shrugged and said, “Guess that was the first owner.”

He placed the diary to the side and Ron and Harry turned their attention to Harry’s new Firebolt. They sat admiring it from every angle until the portrait hole opened, and Hermione came in. “What is that?” she asked, pointing to the broom.

“The Firebolt,” Ron said admiringly. “Someone got it for Harry.”

“Who?” Hermione asked, a frown forming on her lips.

“We don’t know,” Ron said. “There’s no card or anything.”

Hermione’s frown deepened. “Harry, you’re not actually thinking of _riding_ that broom are you?”

“Of course Hermione, why not?” Harry said. “It’s a gift.”

“But we don’t know who sent it to you! For all we know, it could be jinxed or hexed to throw you off when fly it!” Hermione said.

“Hermione, who would do a stupid thing like that,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “Just relax Hermione!”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Harry,” she argued.

“Look, the broom’s not dangerous Hermione,” Harry said. He took hold of the broomstick and walked towards the window. “If you need to see me fly it, then alright.”

Then, before Hermione or Ron could say anything, Harry got on the broomstick and flown out the open window. He could faintly hear Hermione’s voice yelling “HARRY POTTER!” as he flew towards the night sky. The wind rushed against his face as he flew around the castle, a huge grin appearing on his face as flew higher and higher into the air. He felt a sense of freedom as he started to slow down to a stop, hovering around the top of the castle. The moon was full tonight and the sky was surprisingly cloudless, stars dotting the darkness. He decided to take a lap, flying around the castle proper before darting towards Hagrid’s hut, and over the Forbidden Forest. After five minutes, he returned to Gryffindor Tower, landing expertly and perfectly in front of Ron and Hermione. Ron was cheering and clapping at Harry while Hermione had her arms crossed, looking livid.

“Harry Potter, what are you thinking?” Hermione demanded.

“I was showing you that the broom is not jinxed, hexed, or cursed in any way,” Harry said, getting off the Firebolt.

“By just throwing yourself on your broom!?” Hermione said lividly. He threw her hands up and groaned, “I cannot deal with this. You are lucky that I didn’t tell Professor McGonagall about it.”

“Hermione, be reasonable! It’s a Firebolt! You know how expensive they are? Who would by a Firebolt just to curse it?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know, but it’s possible!” Hermione said. “Harry’s dad is one of the best Aurors out there, I’m sure he has enemies! And those enemies could just harm Harry to get to him!”

“Hermione, you’re being insane,” Ron said. “Enemies? What are you talking about?”

Harry frowned and said, “Look, Hermione. Even if dad has enemies like you said, wouldn’t you think they would have tried years ago? Look, perhaps the sender just forgot to put the card, alright? I’ve flown it, and I’m still in one piece. It’s fine.”

Hermione looked at both of them and shook her head. “Boys,” she said dismissively before turning towards the girls’ dormitory.

Harry and Ron just shared a look before going into the boys’ dormitory. Ron headed straight to bed, while Harry lingered. He looked at the diary and bit his lip. He might as well start writing in it. Quietly he took a quill and ink, and crept downstairs towards a small desk by the now closed window that he flew out of. He opened the diary to the first page and paused, not sure what exactly to write about.

He dipped his quill in scarlet ink, and let it hover over the top page as he thought about what topic he should write about. His arm hovered for so long that a drop of the ink fell from his quill and landed neatly on the page, splotching it. Harry stared at it, and, to his amazement, the ink seemed to sink into the page, as if the diary was draining it before disappearing completely. Harry quickly moved the quill aside and ran his finger across the page, surprised to feel that it was bone-dry. Excited, Harry took the quill and wrote “My name is Harry Potter.”

The words shone momentarily on the page and they, too, sank without trace. Then, at last, something happened.

Oozing back out of the page, in his very own ink, came words Harry had never written.

_“Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?”_

These words, too, faded away, but not before Harry had started to scribble back. “It was a gift from Draco Malfoy. He told me to write in it whenever I feel like I am lying.”

Harry waited for the diary’s reply.

_“Interesting. Tell me, what do you mean by lying?”_

“There are things that I lie about. Things about me,” Harry wrote quickly. “I’m lying to my dad about my sexuality and who I’m friends with… I’m lying to my best friends about Draco and Blaise… and I’m lying to everyone because I can talk to snakes.”

The ink sank into the page and Harry waited on bated breath for the reply. The words oozed slowly, as if Riddle was choosing his words carefully. _“Snakes? You can talk to snakes? Very interesting. We can talk about your sexuality and friends in a moment. But first, I want to hear about your ability. To talk to snakes is very rare, Harry.”_

“It is?” Harry wrote. “I’ve never told anyone about it.”

_“Where are you Harry? If you do not mind telling me.”_

“Hogwarts,” Harry wrote. “Gryffindor Tower.”

_“You are a Gryffindor… and yet you can speak to snakes. Interesting.”_

“Why is that interesting?”

_“A Gryffindor having the talent to speak to snakes. It is a rare and powerful ability Harry. An ability that is saved only those of pure heritage. Tell me, have you heard of Parseltongue?”_

“Parseltongue?” Harry whispered as he wrote down the question. “No, I have not.”

He felt as if the diary was chuckling at him as words oozed into the page. _“Then you have much to learn Harry. Parseltongue is the language of snakes. To be able to speak it, is a gift need sharing.”_

“I need to go,” Harry wrote into the diary, closing it. He didn’t know why, but he felt… something against the diary. It was a curious object and Harry did not know how to approach it. He picked up the book and made his way back to the dormitories. He quietly placed the diary into his bedside table drawer, and laid in bed, his thoughts spinning. Parselmouth, a diary that had a mind of it’s own… or maybe somebody’s mind… he needed to talk to Draco about this, he needed to figure just what the diary is.

New Years came and went shortly, and Gryffindor Tower became crowded and noisy again. Wood sought Harry out on the night before term started.

“Had a good Christmas?” he said, and then, without an answer, he sat down, lowered his voice, and said “I’ve been doing some thinking over Christmas, Harry. After last match, you know. If the dementors come to the next one… I mean… we can’t afford you to—well—“

Wood broke off, looking awkward.

“I’m working on it,” Harry said quickly. “Professor Lupin-Black said he’d train me to ward off the dementors. We should be starting this week. He said he’d have time after Christmas.”

“Ah,” Wood said, his expression clearing. “Well, in that case—I really didn’t want to lose you as Seeker, Harry. And have you ordered a new broom yet?”

“No,” Harry said.

“What!” You’d better get a move on, you know—you can’t ride that Shooting Star against Ravenclaw!”

“He got a Firebolt for Christmas,” Ron said.

“ _A Firebolt?_ No! Seriously? A—a real _Firebolt?_ ”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “It’s in my room.” Oliver Wood demanded Harry to show it to him, and Harry ended up spending the rest of the night showing his new Firebolt to the entire Gryffindor House, much to the annoyance of Hermione, who was giving Harry sharp looks. It was clear that she still haven’t forgiven Harry for the reckless stunt he pulled on Christmas day.

Classes started again the next day. The last thing anyone felt like doing was spending two hours on the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamanders for their enjoyment, and they spent an unusually good lesson collected dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing while the flame-loving lizards scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs. Professor Trelawney was now teaching them palmistry, and she lost no time in informing Harry that he had the shortest life she had ever seen.

It was Defense Against the Dark Arts that Harry was keen to get to; after his conversation with Wood, he wanted to get started on his anti-dementor lessons as soon as possible.

“Ah yes,” said Lupin-Black, when Harry reminded him of his promise at the end of class. “Let me see …how about eight o’clock on Thursday evening? The History of Magic classroom should be large enough. …I’ll have to think carefully about how we’re going to do this. …We can’t bring a real dementor into the castle to practice on. …”

“Still looks ill, doesn’t he?” Ron said as they walked down the corridor, heading to dinner. “What d’you reckon’s the matter with him?”

Harry shrugged and looked where he saw Draco walking down a corridor. “I’ll meet up with you Ron,” he said. “Need to get something from the dorms.”

“Oh, alright…” Ron said unsurely as he watched Harry leave down a corridor.

Harry followed Draco until he was sure the blond was in earshot. “Draco!” he said. The Slytherin stopped and turned around to see Harry approaching him. “We need to talk,” Harry said.

“Okay, what about?” Draco asked.

“Many things,” Harry said, deciding to show his annoyance at Draco. The Ice Prince slowed slightly when he saw the frown on Harry’s face. “You are going to tell your father to stop the charges against Buckbeak,” Harry stated when Draco stopped fully.

“Buckbeak…” Draco said slowly, as if he had forgotten about the hippogriff.

“Yes, Buckbeak. The hippogriff that _you_ provoked,” Harry said. “The one that scratched your arm.”

“Oh yes, I remember,” Draco said. “The beast almost shredded my arm! Why do you care for it?”

“Because Hagrid is at his wit’s end trying to save Buckbeak,” Harry said. “They are going to kill the hippogriff, and it is your fault.”

Draco looked at Harry and shook his head. “Why do you care Harry? It’s just a creature.”

Harry glared at Draco and spat out, “Ron was right. You are still a git.” Harry turned to leave, but Draco chased after him. “Harry, wait.” He demanded.

“Why should I?” Harry asked, still walking.

“We can talk about this!”

“Talk about what?” Harry asked, turned around to glare at Draco. “You’re being a selfish git! You wouldn’t even talk to your father to save an innocent creature!”

“That thing attacked me!”

“Because you provoked him!” Harry yelled. “Hell, you barely even tried to apologize for that, or even show regret!”

“I didn’t know I have to,” Draco said. “I thought that the hippogriff was behind us!”

“And what? So is calling Hermione a mudblood multiple times? Is that ‘behind us’ as well?” Harry asked.

“Well—“

“And the time you almost got Ron Hermione and I expelled because of Norbert? Is that behind us as well?”

“I get it, I’m a git—“

“No, you’re not. You’re a spoiled git who needs to start apologizing for his past actions or else…” Harry’s voice trailed off.

“Or else what Potter?” Draco asked, his arms crossed as he looked down at Harry. Harry met his gaze and said, “Or else I’ll just tell you to sod off and get with Blaise.”

Draco’s eyes zoned into Harry’s. “You wouldn’t,” he said. Harry met the glare and said, “He’s a better person Draco. If you want to continue whatever this is… then get your act together.”

“My act together? I got you a dairy for you!” Draco said.

“Yeah, a fifty year old diary that has the memories of the previous owner!” Harry said.

“What?” Draco said, sounding shocked.

“Yeah, you forgot to add that part,” Harry said. Draco looked as if he was stunned silent.

“I… I… I never knew that,” Draco said. He looked up at Harry and said, “Honestly, I didn’t. Memories of the previous owner? What does that mean?”

“I mean that when I write in it, the ink disappears and reappears in his words,” Harry said. “Are you really telling me that you never knew about it?”

“Yes Harry, I didn’t,” Draco said. “I honestly thought that it was just an old empty diary.”

Harry looked at Draco and said, “At least you’re honest about that.”

“Harry!” Draco said, feeling hurt. Harry shook his head, “No, don’t ‘Harry’ me. I don’t want to talk with you until you get your act together.”

And with that, Harry turned and left Draco in the corridor. But instead of feeling angry or sad he felt empty.

At eight o’clock on Thursday evening, Harry left Gryffindor Tower for the History of Magic classroom. It was dark and empty when he arrived, but he lit the lamps with his wand and had waited only five minutes when Professor Lupin-Black turned up, carrying a large packing case, which he heaved onto Professor Binn’s desk.

“Another boggart,” Lupin-Black said, stripping off his cloak. “I’ve been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch’s filing cabinet. It’s the nearest we’ll get to a real dementor. The boggart will turn into a dementor when he sees you, so we’ll be able to practice on him.”

“Okay,” Harry said, trying to sound as though he wasn’t apprehensive at all and merely glad that Lupin-Black had found such a good substitute for a real dementor.

“So…” Professor Lupin-Black had taken out his own wand, and indicated that Harry should do the same. “The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, harry—well being Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm. Now, have your dad told you about the charm?”

“A little,” Harry admitted. “He told me that there is a spell that keeps dementors away… and that it is powered by happy thoughts.”

“That is correct Harry,” Lupin-Black said. “The spell conjures a Patronus when done correctly, and the Patronus acts as a shield between you and the dementors. It is a powerful force created by happiness, hope, the desire to survive, all things that dementors feed upon. But I must warn you, Harry that the charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it.”

“What does a Patronus look like?” Harry asked curiously.

“Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it,” Lupin-Black said. “Your father’s for insist, is a stag.”

“And how do you conjure it?”

“With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory.”

Harry cast his mind about for a happy memory, settling on the moment when he had first ridden a broomstick.

“Right,” he said, trying to recall as exactly as possible the wonderful, soaring sensation of his stomach.

“The incantation is this—“ Lupin-Black cleared his throat. “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

“ _Expecto patronum_ ,” Harry repeated under his breath, “ _expecto patronum_.”

Concentrating hard on your happy memory?”

“Oh—yeah—“ Harry said, quickly forcing his thoughts back to that first broom ride. “ _Expecto patronum, expecto patronum—_ “

Lupin-Black grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled. A dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned toward Harry. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out. The dementor stepped from the box and started to sweep silently toward Harry, drawing a deep, rattling breath. A wave of piercing cold broke over him—

“Expecto patronum!” Harry yelled. A wisp of silvery gas appeared for a moment before disappearing. “ _Expecto patronum! Expecto—_ “

But the classroom and the dementor were dissolving. …Harry was falling again through the thick white fog, and his mother’s voice was louder than ever, echoing in his head.

“Harry!”

Harry jerked back to life. He was laying flat on his back on the floor. The classroom lamps were alight again. He didn’t have to ask what happened.

“Sorry,” he muttered, sitting up and feeling cold sweat trickling down behind his glasses. Lupin-Black gave him a Chocolate Frog which he ate immediately. “I’m ready to try again,” he said.

“Harry… are you sure you want to continue?”

“I do!” Harry said fiercely. “I’ve got to! What if the dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? I can’t afford to fall off again. If we lose this game we’ve lost the Quidditch Cup!”

“All right then …” Lupin-Black said. “You might want to pick another memory to concentrate on. That one doesn’t seem to have been strong enough. …”

Harry nodded and rattled his brain for another memory. He thought about his feelings when Gryffindor had won the House Championship last year, about his first time to Diagon Alley with his father and Hagrid… then, he finally decided on a memory.

“Ready?” Lupin-Black said, who was looking as though he were doing this against his better judgment. “Concentrating hard? All right—go!”

He pulled the lid of the case, and the dementor rose out of it; the room fell cold and dark—

“ _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ ” Harry bellowed. “ _EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!”_

The screaming inside Harry’s head had started again—except this time, it sounded as though it were coming from a badly tuned radio—softer and louder and softer again—and he could still see the dementor—it had halted—and then a huge, silver shadow came bursting out of the end of Harry’s wand, to hover between him and the dementor, and though Harry’s legs felt like water, he was still on his feet—though for how much longer, he wasn’t sure—

“Riddikulus!” Lupin-Black roared, springing forward.

There was a loud crack, and Harry’s cloudy Patronus vanished along with the dementor; he sank into a chair, feeling as exhausted as if he’d just run a mile, and felt his legs shaking.

“Excellent!” Lupin-Black said, striding over to where Harry sat. “Excellent, Harry! That was definitely a start!”

“Can we have another go? Just one more go?”

“Not now,” Lupin-Black said firmly. “You’ve had enough for one night. Here—“

He handed Harry a large bar of Honeydukes’ best chocolate. “Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?”

“Okay,” Harry said. He took a bite of the chocolate and watched Lupin extinguishing the lamps that had rekindled with the disappearance of the dementor. A thought had just occurred to him. “Professor Lupin-Black? You know my dad, right? You told me that he was angry at you and your husband… but you never told me why,” Harry said.

“True,” Professor Lupin-Black said, nodding. “I’ve told you that it would be better if you ask your father.”

“But he wouldn’t tell me, even if I did,” Harry said. “I just know it.”

Lupin-Black sighed and sat down. “Alright… I see no reason to hide it. You see Harry, there are people who… they hate us for what we are. I thought your father was different, but after Lily died and Sirius and I gotten married… it seems as if we were wrong.”

“You mean… my dad hates you because you like blokes?” Harry said slowly. Lupin-Black nodded and Harry said, “But he wouldn’t be like that! He’s too nice to be like that!”

“And yet… there’s a reason why I’m just meeting you now Harry, instead of being in your life for a long time,” Lupin-Black said. He shook his head and said, “You’d better be off, Harry, it’s getting late.”

Harry left the classroom, walking along the corridor and around a corner, then took a detour behind a suit of armor and sank down on its plinth to finish his chocolate, wishing he hadn’t mentioned his father to Lupin-Black. He tried to convince himself that his father isn’t that way. “He’s wrong, there has to be a better reason that that,” he told himself.

He stood up, crammed the last bit of chocolate into his mouth, and headed back to Gryffindor Tower. When he reached the dormitories, instead of going to sleep he instead felt a pull towards the drawer where Riddle’s diary hid. He debated, then quickly opened the drawer and pulled out the diary, writing about everything that happened.

He watched as the ink disappeared into the page, and Riddle’s words oozed back. _“I see… I can understand how such a dilemma can impact a person such as you Harry. So young, and yet so many expectations and challenges. … If you want, I can help you, both with this Malfoy problem and your father’s homophobia. All I need is your trust. With that, I have so much that I can teach you. You do not need to say anything now, but just think about it. And if Malfoy does in fact change his ways then, what I will teach you will still be benedictory. The body is a wondrous yet complex thing Harry, even if this Malfoy does not come back, and instead is replaced by Blaise, what I can teach you will still be valuable. I do not want your answer now. Sleep on it young Harry, sleep and when you are ready, you know where I will be.”_


	10. Lessons of Patience

Chapter 10

Lessons of Patience

Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin won, though narrowly. According to Wood, this was good news for Gryffindor, who would take second place if they beat Ravenclaw too. He therefore increased the number of team practices to five a week. This meant that with Lupin-Black’s anti-dementor classes, which in themselves were more draining than six Quidditch practices, harry had just one night a week to do all his homework. Even so, he wasn’t showing the strain nearly as much as Hermione, whose immense workload finally seemed to be getting to her. Every night, without fail, Hermione was to be seen in a corner of the common room, several tables spread with books. Arithmancy charts, rune dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects, and file upon file of extensive notes; she barely spoke to anybody and snapped when she was interrupted.

“How’s she doing it?” Ron muttered to Harry one evening as Harry sat finishing a nasty essay on Undetectable Poisons for Snape. Harry looked up. Hermione was barely visible behind a tottering pile of books.

“Doing what?”

“Getting to all her classes!” Ron said, “I heard her talking to Professor Vector, that Arithmancy witch, this morning. They were going on about yesterday’s lesson, but Hermione can’t’ve been there, because she was with us in Care of Magical Creatures! And Ernie McMillan told me she’s never missed a Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Divination, and she’s never missed one of them either!”

Harry didn’t have time to fathom the mystery of Hermione’s impossible schedule at the moment; he really needed to get on with Snape’s essay. He had not talked to Draco since their last argument, and he was feeling disappointed. He really hoped that Draco would have tried something by now, but instead he had done nothing, not that Harry had a lot of free time to look for the Slytherin.

He looked up to see the Weasley twins walking into the common room, but paid them little attention as they walked past, keeping his attention to the essay.

“I’m telling you I’m handling it,” George whispered as he and Fred walked towards a corner of the common room. George looked around to make sure that no one was listening in.

“Yeah, handling it,” Fred said. “That idiot just came by and demanded you to follow him—“

“And I did not,” George said. “Honestly Fred just let me handle it.”

“Handle what?” a voice asked. They looked up and saw Oliver Wood standing in front of them, looking down at the sitting twins. George looked at Fred, as if silently telling him not to tell Wood, but Fred didn’t listen. “Flint is bothering George,” he said.

“Why?” Wood asked, frowning.

Both him and Fred looked to George for an answer. George gave his brother a sharp look before looking up at Wood. “We were dating,” he said, “and I broke up with him.”

Oliver Wood frowned at George. “And he’s still bothering you?”

“Yeah,” George nodded. “But I’m handling it,” he said more to Fred than Oliver.

“I’m talking to him,” Oliver Wood said.

“What?”

“I’m talking to him,” Oliver repeated. “I’m not going to have someone bother one of my teammates and push him off his focus.”

“No, you don’t need to do that,” George said. “Please don’t do that.”

Oliver shook his head, “I’m going to anyway, there no way I’m going to let that brute bother you George,” he said with a wink and smirk. “And don’t try to stop me.”

Oliver Wood walked away from the twins and out of the common room, both twins looked at each other, Fred smirking and George grimacing. “He’s totally gay,” Fred said with a smirk.

“Yeah but I told you I can handle it,” George said. “And now you got Wood involved.”

“No, that’s all you brother,” Fred said. “Come on, I’ve done my part.”

George gave Fred one last look before standing up and following after Oliver Wood. He found the Quidditch captain down the hallway at the top of the stairway and yelled out his name. Oliver turned around and said, “George, what are you doing?”

“What am I doing? Wood, what the hell are you doing?” George asked, crossing his arms as he stared at the burly Gryffindor.

“I’m going to give Flint a piece of my mind,” Oliver said. “If that troll keeps on hounding you, it’s going to impact our results as a team! Besides, it’s just wrong.”

“Wrong…” George repeated. “You don’t even know what he did to me.”

“Then tell me,” Oliver said. “What did he do to you?”

George shook his head, “I’m not going to tell you, that’ll just send you in a rage. I’ve told Fred that I am handling it, and I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“Well, I want to help,” Oliver said. “And I will help. So tell me what he did to you. Don’t tell me… did he—“

“No, he didn’t do that,” George said. “He had the decency to stop when I told him to.” He stopped, embarrassed and shocked that he just easily shared that information with Wood. Both boys were quiet as a battle ran in George’s head, debating whether or not to tell Oliver the evils Marcus Flint had done against him. They both stood quiet, Wood waiting patiently as he stared at the lean Weasley as his eyes screwed tight in confliction. Then, after a painfully long five minutes, George said, “He’s rough with me. …Too rough, and lately he started stalking me as well. He can’t seem to accept that we’re not dating anymore. Today, he followed me into a bathroom just to tell me that I cannot get away from him. … it’s scaring me, but I can’t tell anyone about it since he’s not exactly hurting me.”

“You still need to tell Professor McGonagall!” Oliver Wood said. “He’s tormenting you, stalking you!”

“No, I am handling it,” George said strictly. “Don’t you dare tell Professor McGonagall.”

“Then, I am helping you,” Oliver Wood said.

“But—“

Oliver took a step forward and grabbed George’s shoulders. He made the Weasley look him into his eyes and said, “I am helping you George, there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

They both stared at each other, and George had to look away, blushing. “Fine,” he said. “But we’re not going to either Professor McGonagall, or just directly to Flint.”

“Alright then,” Wood said with a cocky smirk on his face. “Then what?”

“… I don’t know,” George said. “Let’s just do nothing for now.”

Oliver looked at him and said, “Alright, nothing… for now.”

“Good,” George nodded. He noticed that Oliver was still holding his shoulders. “Err, you can let go now,” he said.

Oliver Wood smirked at him and said, “Of course I’m not. Come on.” So, still holding George by his shoulders, Oliver Wood led the shorter boy back towards Gryffindor Tower and into the common room.

 

James Potter watched as the two wizards brought in an empty portrait into the house, the wizard painter following them as they walked into the study. “Right next to the old man’s portrait,” James said as they walked in. Fleamont was walking into his portrait as the two wizards took out their wands and aimed it at the portrait they were just carrying. The two wizards flicked their wands and the portrait hovered into the air and glided towards the wall. The painter took out his wand as well and aimed it at the portrait, now hanging perfectly next to wall, and aimed a non-verbal spell at it. The portrait seemed to spring to life, a small ornate love seat appearing as the background changed.

The portrait was now of a porch, the love seat facing away from the sunny weather of the painting. They waited, and soon a woman walked into frame, looking around. She looked at James and said, “Took you long enough, James.”

“Euphemia, there you are,” Fleamont said as he walked into his wife’s portrait. James and the other wizards turned away from them to conduct business. “Thank you very much,” James said. “How much do I owe you?”

“It was an easy job,” the painter shrugged. “Copying a portrait, easy work. Just give us” –he pulled out a small slip of paper—“249 Galleons, eight Sickles and eleven Knuts.”

“Alright, one second,” James said as he walked towards the back of the study. He took out his wand, tapped a part of the wall, and a small compartment opened up with a money pouch. He took the pouch, counted up the money, and gave it to the painter. The painter nodded in thanks, said his goodbyes, and barked at the two wizards to leave.

With the three wizards gone, James turned to look at his mother’s portrait. “I told you I’ve get it in,” he told his father.

“Yes, but you certainly took your sweet time,” Fleamont said.

“Oh hush Fleamont, the boy was busy,” Euphemia said, turning to look at James. “Weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was,” James said. “And I still am. So, goodbye.”

“Where do you think you are going?” James’ mother’s portrait demanded. “I’ve just got here and you are already leaving?”

“Sorry mother, but I have work to do,” James said. “I’m sure dad here can fill you in on everything.” He tried again to leave the study but his mother’s voice stopped him again. He turned around and with a sigh of annoyance walked towards his desk, sat down in his padded chair, and turned to look towards his mother. He was glad that he had gotten one of those muggle chairs with wheels as he flicked his wand as the chair rolled towards the two portraits. “What do you want, mum?” he asked.

“Firstly, where is my grandson?” she asked.

“Hogwarts mum,” James answered bored. “It’s January, term’s started.” His mother looked around and nodded, looking disappointed. “This place needs a woman’s touch,” she critiqued. “You know your father’s house is still in clean condition. If you would—“

“For the last time Harry and I will not move into Potter Manor,” James groaned. “We’re happy here. This is Harry’s home and I will not uproot him to a place that is too large for the two of us and swarmed with musty old house elves.”

“But the Potter Manor has been in our family for generations,” Euphemia argued. “To simply not live in it… it’s unthinkable! It was yours to live in when we died.”

“And Lily and I agreed that it would be better to live in Godric’s Hollow,” James said.

“And look where that ended you,” Euphemia said. James’ face darkened as he glared at his mother’s portrait.

“What your mother means… I think, is that it’s about upholding tradition,” Fleamont said, looking between his wife and their own son. Isn’t that right, Euphemia, sweetie?”

“Yes, tradition,” the old woman nodded.

“Besides, James and I have gone through this talk a hundred times,” Fleamont said. “The boy’s stubborn. You know that. Now, what is it you’re so busy about you can’t talk to your parents?”

“Harry has something important to tell me,” James said. “He told me so in the letter he sent me for Christmas, and now I have till either Easter or the end of the school year to figure it out before he tells me.”

“Ah yes… that,” Fleamont nodded. “I remember you talking about that. What do you think it could be?”

“I don’t know… hopefully nothing seriously damaging,” James said. “Though if he had hurt himself like that, I would have been contacted. … But I don’t know what else it could be.” He looked up to the two portraits and said, “Also I still have to deal with the damn dementors, and I’m meeting the Minister to talk about it in half an hour. Worst of all, Malfoy will be there.”

“Malfoy… you mean Abraxas’ kid?” Euphemia asked.

“Yes, Lucius,” James said. “I swear that man is up to something. He actually said to me that he will work with me on the dementors. He actually _agreed_ with me!”

“Oh my… there must be something wrong with him,” Euphemia said. Both Fleamont and James nodded, agreeing with her.

“Yes, well whatever it is, I need to get to the Ministry,” James said to the two portraits. “Goodbye.”

James left the study and made sure that he had everything he needed, picking up a stack of papers. He took out his wand, took a step, and apparated directing into the Ministry foyer. He walked down to the elevator and stayed quiet as he rode it down to the Minister’s level. When he got off the elevator, he saw Malfoy walking down the small corridor, heading towards the Minister’s office as well. “Malfoy,” he said.

Lucius looked back and said, “Potter.”

They both stayed quiet as they walked towards the Minister’s office, James opening the door and entering first. The Minister of Magic was alone, and James started immediately. “Sir, here is the report of the dementors at Hogwarts and the damage they have done,” he said, dropping the stack of papers onto his desk.

The Minister looked up and frowned. “Potter, don’t remember calling you in.”

“I know, but you wanted the information of how your project is working,” James said. He pointed at the papers and said, “There you go. Every complaint, disturbance, and injuries the dementors had caused since September.”

The Minister just glanced at the stack before shaking his head dismissively. “I am busy Potter. There will be expected disturbances for the change. They are not directly on the grounds, nor in Hogsmeade so please return to your job. I am busy.”

“If I may, Minister,” Lucius Malfoy said, stepping forward. “Potter raises a sound point with the dangers of the dementors. True, they may not be precisely on the grounds or Hogsmeade, yet their effects can still be felt in both. If you remember, a single dementor caused the Hogwarts Express to force a stop an hour before arriving at Hogsmeade Castle. And a small swarm of dementors came and caused the first Quidditch match of the season to stop short with the near-death of a student.”

“A death that had been avoided, and a stop that was to be expected,” the Minister said.

“True, but still both incidence could have been avoided with better planning,” Lucius said. “I believe it is in the best interest of everyone if the Ministry turns their attention to this problem after you and I have dealt with the hippogriff problem.”

“You are still hung up about that?” James said, slightly outraged. “You would rather deal with one singular hippogriff than the dozens of dementors that are surrounding the castle?”

“Yes, I am,” Lucius said shortly. “And I do not have time for your bellyaching of the supposed innocent on a mad hippogriff.”

James glared at Lucius. “You cannot be serious, Malfoy,” he said. “There are things more important than your son getting a damn scratch and the dementor situation is one of them.”

“Either way, the Minister has priorities,” Lucius smirked. “And my son’s horrible attack is one of them. Now, if you are done, there is a trial that both the Minister and I need to prepare for.”

James gave Lucius a sharp look as the Malfoy smirked victorious. He mouthed ‘Fuck you’ then walked out, angry at both the Minister and Malfoy that they would rather focus on a hippogriff then the obvious problem.

 

Draco Malfoy paced up and down the Slytherin common room, irritated. “A git? He calls me a git?”

He had told everyone in the common room to go to the dorms, except for Blaise, who was watching amused as his friend looked as if he was trying to hold back his anger. “And he tells me that if I don’t ‘change my ways’ that he’ll just snog it up with you! Well, I’m sorry if I do not care about the oaf or his damn bird! I mean honestly, who cares about a damn hippogriff? Prideful bird attacked me! Me! And yet Harry’s defending it!”

“I don’t think that’s the point Draco—“

“And the mudblood thing? I mean, yeah I was a prick with that, but I’ve never called anyone that for a year! If Harry doesn’t want me to use then, then all right,” Draco went on, fuming. “I mean I am trying here, and he still calls me a git?”

“Draco, if you would just shut up,” Blaise said quickly. “Look, I think Harry cares more about Hagrid than the hippogriff. And I guess with your dad wanting the creature dead… it’s making Hagrid, and so Harry, very upset.”

“Maybe but still, it isn’t entirely my fault,” Draco said. “The beast attacked me!”

“After you provoked him,” Blaise said. “I forgot what you said, but I just know you’ve said something to cause that beast to slash at you.”

“I might have said… something…” Draco said. “But there’s nothing I can do at this point! Father already had the trial set.”

“Seriously?” Blaise asked.

“Yes,” Draco said. “It is in April, and whatever happens, happens. There is nothing I can do to deter father.” Blaise gave Draco a sharp look. “Look,” Draco continued, “if it would help Harry out that much, I would love to stop the hippogriff’s trial, but I simply cannot. I’m a thirteen year old student, and the Minister is involved. You know how my father is, I cannot do anything that makes him seem weak. And going against this trial will make him and our family seem weak.”

“Then talk to Harry about it,” Blaise said. “Let him know about your father. From what I heard, you two barely talk about fathers.”

“We do,” Draco said. “We talked about how our fathers both have pressure on us.”

“Is that it?” Blaise asked. “Look, Harry needs to understand what exactly your father is pressuring you to do. Otherwise you’ll just seem like a giant prick.” Draco stopped and threw a glare at Blaise. The dark-skinned Slytherin just shrugged, “It’s true Draco. Without it, you’re just looking like a giant prick.”

“Fine, then I’ll talk to him!” Draco said, throwing his hands into the air in a frustrated manner. Blaise smirk victoriously and said, “Have fun Draco!”

Draco said nothing as he left the dungeons, deciding to get the conversation over with. He walked up the stairs, looking out the windows near the entrance hall as he thought about where Harry would be. He decided to just roam the corridors. He headed towards the seventh floor, believing that it would be easier and more likely to find Potter nearer the Gryffindor Tower. He walked for nearly an hour, and decided that he was going nowhere, spending most of the time glaring at first and second year Gryffindors as he looked for his Potter. Feeling slightly defeated, he started to walk down the stairs when he walked into Hermione Granger, who was carrying many heavy textbooks. “Granger!” he called out, deciding that if he couldn’t talk to Harry directly, he could at least let his Gryffindor know that he is trying.

“What do you want Malfoy?” Granger asked, voice filled with both annoyance, and sheer tiredness.

“No need to look at me like that Granger,” Draco said. “I’m just here to say I’m sorry.”

“Excuse me?” Granger said, not believing him.

“Look, I’m sorry for calling you a mudblood. Goodbye.” And with that, Draco descended the stairs and left Granger to her ways. He returned to the Slytherin common room irritated, yet feeling accomplished. Blaise only glanced up at him from his seat, a roll of parchment in front of him. “Couldn’t find him, apologized to Granger,” Draco stated as he sat down in front of Blaise.

“That’s a good start,” Blaise nodded. He looked up and smiled weakly at Draco. “Draco, think you can help me with my Transfiguration assignment?”

Draco chuckled and said, “You’re hopeless Zabini, give it here.” Blaise just smiled as he slid his parchment towards Draco, letting his best friend correct his mistakes in the essay.

 

“He said what?” Harry asked, shocked.

“I told you,” Hermione said, “Malfoy just walked up to me, said he’s sorry for calling me a mudblood, then left.”

They were in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione just coming back from a talk with one of her professors. Ron and Harry were staring at her as if she had spontaneously grown a second head. Harry and Ron shared a look and Harry began to mouth something as Ron shook his head. “Well… Harry said slowly. “That’s just… weird.”

Harry wondered if his and Draco’s talk a few days ago had an impact on the Slytherin as he guessed that under normal conditions, Draco would never apologize for anything. Maybe he was trying to make a difference.

“I know, right,” Hermione frowned. She shook her head and moved past them, towards her usual corner and unpacked all of her homework assignments for the night.

“I honestly have no idea how she does that,” Ron said as they watch Hermione open up her runes dictionary. “Honestly, what is she trying to prove?”

But Harry wasn’t thinking about that, instead thoughts of Draco filled him as he made his way up to the dormitories. He opened his bedside drawer and pulled out the dairy. He just felt like writing about it.

“Draco is trying,” he wrote. “Hermione told me that he had apologized to her for calling her a mudblood.”

_“Interesting. … A muggleborn? It seems good that the Malfoy is giving an effort. Though, I am wondering about you Harry. Do you remember the proposal I’ve made? It is still open, and now it seems that it will be more helpful than ever.”_

“Yes,” Harry wrote. “I accept.”

 _“Excellent,”_ the words oozed from the diary. _“We will begin later. What will you do now?”_

“I’m thinking of finding Draco,” Harry wrote. “But I can’t until tomorrow.”

_“Then sleep Harry, sleep and tomorrow find Draco Malfoy.”_

Somehow, Harry yawned and felt tired. He returned the diary to it’s rightful place, and stripped. He changed into his pajamas and laid in bed. As soon as his head hit the pillows, he fell asleep.

The next morning Harry immediately went out to look for Draco. Lucky for him, he found the Slytherin just as he and the other Slytherins were walking up from the dungeons. The Slytherins all sneered at him, but Blaise gave him a small smile and wave. Draco looked uncertain, but slowly drifted from the crowd as Harry walked away from the doors to the Great Hall.

“Harry?” Draco said.

“I’ve heard that you apologized to Hermione,” Harry said.

“Yeah well… I was looking for you, and found her instead,” Draco said. Harry nodded and gave him a small smile. “I’m glad… that you’re showing an effort.”

“Of course I am,” Draco said. “Which is why I wanted to look for you.”

“Why?” Harry asked.

“There are some things I need to tell you,” Draco said. He looked around and frowned. “After we find some privacy.” He grabbed Harry’s hand and led him down to an empty corridor. He looked around and found a stone bench next to a window between two suits of armor. They both sat down and Draco said, “Remember when we both admitted that our fathers exert pressure on us?”

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“Well… my father is more… forceful,” Draco began. “To him, the family image means everything. We cannot show any weakness, to anyone. And to him, anything that he is against or does not like is considered as ‘weakness.’ One of the biggest showing of weakness that he just hates is going back on plans. Especially when time and effort had been put into it. The situation with the hippogriff… yes, I over reacted. I provoked the damn beast, and now it is out of either my hands or yours. The trial is set for April, and there is no way my father is backing down. The Minister is involved, and if he backs down now and withdraw the charges… it would cause my father to embarrass himself in front of the Minister, something he would never do.

“And there is nothing I can do. I’m sorry but I cannot convince my father to change his mind, nor even think of convincing the Minister! I wish there was something I could do for that hippogriff, but there isn’t. I am sorry, but know that if there was anything I could do to help you, I’ve would have done it already.”

“Then find something,” Harry said.

“Excuse me?”

“Find something to help me,” Harry said. “Go against your dad.”

“I already am,” Draco muttered.

“What?”

“I already am going against my dad,” Draco said. “I’m liking you.”

Harry’s face turned red as he stared at Draco.

“I told you, my father had a plan for me, and one of those plans was marrying a pureblood witch,” Draco said. “It didn’t matter who it was, I was to be married to a pureblood witch… and that’s just impossible now.”

“Why?” Harry asked.

Draco chuckled and smirked, “Really Potter? Did you forget already? I’m gay Harry. I am gay, and I like you. That’s already two signs of ‘weakness’ for my father.”

Harry frowned. “Then go against him,” he said.

“I can’t just ‘go against’ my father, Harry! This is my father we are talking about! He has the Minister in his pocket!”

“Then do something!” Harry said. “Don’t just stand there and mope cause your dad’s having a plan for you! Look at me, I’m diverting from my dad’s plan and you don’t think I’m scared of what will happen?”

“Harry—“

“I’m scared too Draco,” Harry said. “But I’m still working on it. … I’ve mailed my dad at Christmas, I’m going to tell him I am gay. I’m not following my dad’s expectations, and I want him to know it. That is what I am doing Draco. What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” Draco repeated. “I am thinking of going against my father. My father Harry, who basically controls the Ministry. Yeah, we both have hard dads, but honestly Harry mine is a hundred times worse than yours. At least yours mail you every month, at least your dad runs to Hogwarts when you get hurt! Do you want to know what my father did? Nothing. No visit, no owl, not even a stupid visit! My mother visited me then told my father about it. And during the Christmas break, he did not even bring the attack up. He just asked me how my classes were going, requested for m grades, and left me alone. So yeah, that is what I’m up against Harry.”

Draco’s arms were crossed as he fumed against Harry. Harry’s frown deepened as he shifted closer to Draco. “I… I didn’t know,” he said.

“Yeah well… I’m used to it by now,” Draco shrugged.

Harry wrapped an arm around the taller boy hesitantly and said, “I’m sorry…”

Draco shook his head and turned towards Harry, “No, you don’t need to apologize, Harry. No one outside the Malfoy family knows of how we’ve kept our image for generations. So don’t ever think you need to apologize for that.”

Harry blushed but nodded slowly. He looked up at Draco and said, “I’ve missed you, you know?”

“Of course you did,” Draco smirked. “Who wouldn’t miss me? I’m the most important boy in your life.”

Harry chuckled, relieved that Draco was lightening the mood and said, “Well… I don’t know if you’re the most _important_ boy in my life… but you’re up there.”

Draco chuckled and smirked. “I’m sure I can get up there.”

“Oh really?” Harry said.

“Draco chuckled and moved his hand to Harry’s chin. “Yes, now are we better?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. Draco smiled and stood up, pulling Harry with him. “Good, I’ll see you later than Harry.” He kissed Harry’s cheek and left the corridor, leaving the Gryffindor smiling as their relationship became a little clearer.

January faded imperceptibly into Februrary, with no change in the birrerly cold weather. Harry frequently wrote in the diary, at least twice a week as Tom Riddle taught him about Parseltongue and more lewd subjects. Every time after they have talked, however, Harry always felt a severe tiredness overwhelm him, which he put to on staying up late at night to talk to the diary. To make matters worse, Harry’s anti-dementor lessons were not going nearly as well as he had hoped. Several lessons on, he was able to produce an indistinct, silvery shadow every time the boggart-dementor approached him, but his Patronus was too feeble to drive the dementor away. All it did was hover, like a semi-transparent cloud, draining Harry of energy as he fought to keep it there. Harry felt angry with himself, guilty about his secret desire to hear his mother’s voice again.

“You’re expecting too much of yourself,” Professor Lupin-Black said sternly in their fourth week of practice. “For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren’t passing out anymore, are you?”

“I thought a Patronus would—charge the dementors down or something,” Harry said  dispiritedly. “Make them disappear—“

“The true Patronus does do that,” Lupin said. “But you’ve achieved a great deal in a very short space of time. If the dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground.”

“You said it’s harder if there are loads of them,” Harry said.

“I have complete confidence in you,” Lupin-Black said, smiling. “Here—you’ve earn a drink—something from the Three Broomsticks. You won’t have tried it before—“

He pulled out two bottles out of his briefcase.

“Butterbeer!” Harry said, without thinking. “Yeah, I like that stuff!”

Lupin-Black raised an eyebrow.

“Oh—Ron and Hermione brought me some back from Hogsmeade,” Harry lied quickly.

“I see,” Lupin-Black said, though he still looked slightly suspicious. “Well—let’s drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw! Not that I’m supposed to take sides, as a teacher …,” he added hastily.

They drank the butterbeer in silence, until Harry voiced something he’d been wondering for a while.

“Do you think there’s a reason? On why my dad doesn’t like you and your husband? It cannot be just because you’re gay.”

Professor Lupin-Black lowered his bottle thoughtfully.

“Hmmm… if there is a reason, then it is one that I do not know Harry,” Lupin-Black said. “I suppose that if there is a reason, for there has to be considering we were friends for so many years, that only your father would know it. And, considering that we are currently on nonspeaking terms, I can only guess that he would not be sharing that reason with me nor Sirius shortly.”

“Ohh,” Harry said with a slight frown.

Lupin-Black gave a short chuckle and said, “You know, my son Orion asked me something similar during the school break.”

“Your son?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Lupin-Black chuckled. “I’ll expect you see him next year here. His birthday’s in August.”

“Ohh… what did your son ask?” Harry asked.

“He asked if there was a reason why we didn’t talk to James,” Lupin-Black chuckled. “And we have told you what I have mostly told you. If there is a reason behind your father’s homophobia, then we do not know it. I hoped that there is another, underlining reason for it, though if I were honest, I had given up that possibility years ago.”

Harry frowned. “I do not mean to put a wedge between you and your father,” Professor Lupin-Black said. He finished his butterbeer and looked at the time. “It’s getting late. You should return back to the Gryffindor common room, Harry.”

Harry nodded, thanked Lupin-Black for the butterbeer, and left the History of Magic classroom. He returned to the common room to find Hermione working. “Can I sit down?” Harry asked Hermione.

“I suppose so,” Hermione said, moving a great stack of parchment off a chair.

Harry looked around at the cluttered table, at the long Arithmancy essay on which the ink was still glistening, at the even longer Muggle Studies essay (“Explain Why Muggles Need Electricity”) and at the rune translation Hermione was now pouring over.

“How are you getting through all this stuff?” Harry asked her.

“Oh, well—you know—working hard,” Hermione said. Close-up, Harry saw that she looked almost as tired as Lupin.

“Why don’t you just drop a couple of subjects?” Harry asked, watching her lifting books as she searched for her rune dictionary.

“I couldn’t do that!” Hermione said, looking scandalized.

“Arithmancy looks terrible,” Harry said, picking up a very complicated-looking numbers char.

“Oh no, it’s wonderful!” Hermione said earnestly. “It’s my favorite subject! It’s—“

But exactly what was wonderful about Arithmancy, Harry never found out. At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys’ staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder—and then Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet.

“LOOK!” he bellowed, striding over to Hermione’s table. “LOOK!” he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face.

“Ron, what—?”

“SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!”

Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. Harry looked down at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it. Something that looked horribly like—

“BLOOD!” Ron yelled into the stunned silence. “HE’S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?”

N-No,” Hermione said in a trembling voice.

Ron threw something down onto Hermione’s rune translation. Hermione and Harry leaned forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs.


	11. Patronus and Practice

Chapter 11

Patronus and Practice

It looked like the end of Ron and Hermione’s friendship. Each was so angry with the other that Harry couldn’t see how they’d ever make up. Ron was enraged that Hermione had never taken Crookshanks’s attempts to eat Scabbers seriously, hadn’t bothered to keep a close enough watch on him, and was still trying to pretend that Crookshanks was innocent by suggesting that Ron look for Scabbers under all the boys’ beds. Hermione, meanwhile, maintained fiercely that Ron had no proof that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, that the ginger hairs might have been there since Christmas, and that Ron had been prejudiced against her cat ever since Crookshanks had landed on Ron’s head in the Magical Menagerie.

Personally, Harry was sure that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, and when he tried to point out to Hermione that the evidence all pointed that way, she lost her temper with Harry too.

“Okay, side with Ron, I knew you would!” she said shrilly. “First the Firebolt, now Scabbers, everything’s my fault, isn’t it! Just leave me alone, Harry, I’ve got a lot of work to do!”

Ron had taken the loss of his rat very hard indeed.

“Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was,” Fred said bracingly. “And he’s been off-color for ages, he was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly—one swallow—he probably didn’t feel a thing.”

“ _Fred!_ ” Ginny said.

“All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself,” George said.

“Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat, what’s the point of moaning?”

In a last-ditch attempt to cheer Ron up, Harry persuaded him to come along to the Gryffindor team’s final practice before the Ravenclaw match, so that he could have a ride on the Firebolt after they’d finished. This did seem to take Ron’s mind off Scabbers for a moment so they set off for the Quidditch field together.

It was the best practice the team inspired by the presence of the Firebolt in their midst, performed their best moves faultlessly, and by the time they hit the ground again, Wood didn’t have a single criticism to make. Harry noticed that Wood again seemed to spend more time closer to the Weasley twins, but more especially George, who both seemed to share glances at each other throughout the practice. Harry wondered mildly what happened between the two of them, but turned his mind to catching the Snitch using various maneuvers.

Wood told the team to head in for an early night, but Harry and Ron stayed back while the rest of the Quidditch team headed towards the lockers.

Fred smirked and wrapped his arm around his twin as they entered the lockers. “So what’s this thing between you and Wood? Eh?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” George said, struggling to get out of his brother’s grip. “He’s just helping me with a problem.”

“Right,” Fred smirked. “You know, I don’t have to ask you. I can just ask Wood here. Hey, Wood! Come here!”

Oliver Wood, who had just finished dressing into his school robes, turned around towards Fred and George and began walking over to them. “What is it Fred?” he asked, looking at Fred.

Fred looked over at George who had a light blush. “Well Wood, since George here wouldn’t tell me, what’s going on between you two?”

“You mean you didn’t tell him?” the burly boy smirked at George. “Come on George, you’re better than that.” He pulled the Weasley over towards him and wrapped a possessive arm around his waist. He looked at Fred and smirked, “Didn’t he tell you he’s my boy now? We’re boyfriends.”

George blushed and smiled as he nodded in agreement. Fred crossed his arms and smirked at the two. “Really? And when did this happen George?”

“Umm the night he heard about Flint?” George said questioning, looking at Oliver for help. Oliver just smirked and pulled George closer. “That is when it was official George. But I was staring at your ass for a long time.”

“Don’t need to hear that,” Fred smirked as he walked away. He turned to the two and said, “George hurry up! Lee said he has a horned slug we’re going to let loose in Filch’s office!”

“Alright!” George said as he watched his twin go deeper into the locker rooms to change. He turned his attention to Oliver, “Oliver, I need to go change,” he said.

“Aright, but first let me do this,” Oliver said. He gently took George’s chin in his strong hand and tilted his face up as he leaned down to kiss the boy. George, shocked at first, closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around the Keeper as he lost himself in the kiss. A moan came from the back of George’s throat as Oliver pulled him even closer, their chests pushing against each other as every nerve of George’s being tuned to Oliver’s. He felt their heart beats pulse against each other, synchronizing as Oliver led and controlled the kiss. But it was over too quickly for George’s liking as Oliver pulled away, a confident, cocky smirk on his face. “Better than Flint?” he asked.

“Much better,” George breathed.

Oliver’s smile turned into a victorious one as he kissed George’s nose. “Get dress George. I want everyone to turn in early tonight.” George nodded and walked away from Oliver, grabbing his school robes.

Harry went down to breakfast the next morning with the rest of the boys in his dormitory, all of whom seemed to think the Firebolt deserved a sort of guard of honor. As Harry entered the Great Hall, heads turned in the direction of the Firebolt, and there was a good deal of excited muttering. Harry saw, with enormous satisfaction, that the Slytherin team were all looking thunder-struck.

“Did you see his face?” Ron said gleefully, looking back at Draco. “He can’t believe it! This is brilliant!” Harry looked and saw that Draco, was in fact as shocked as the rest of his team, but instead of anger and jealousy, Harry could see a small confident smirk on his face.

“We have a bet going,” Harry whispered to Ron. “Based on how we’ll do on the Gryffindor/Slytherin match.”

“You’ll definitely win mate,” Ron whispered with a gleeful smirk.

Harry nodded and looked over to Draco, giving him a confident smirk. He barely saw Draco’s reaction as the Gryffindors led Harry towards the Gryffindor Table. Wood had Harry place the Firebolt in the middle of the table and carefully turned it so that its name faced upward. People from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were soon coming over to look. Cedric Diggory came over to congratulate Harry on having acquired such a superb replacement for his Numbus. “I was worried after hearing what happened,” he said with a handsome smile. “Now we can have a proper rematch.”

“Looking for it Diggory,” Harry said.

Harry looked at Draco, wanting to talk to him. Draco looked up from his table, and as if he had read Harry’s mind, he nodded towards the door, signaling for Harry to leave first. “I’ll be right back, can you watch my Firebolt?” he told Ron, who just nodded.

Harry stood from the Gryffindor Table and walked his way out of the Great Hall, leaving the Firebolt in good hands. He went through the open doors and into the entrance hall, turning right and walked towards a stone bench near the four huge hourglasses that kept count of the House Points. He stayed quiet as he waited, until he heard Draco’s voice. “Leave me alone you stupid oafs,” he said. “I can take a bloody walk by myself!”

“You taking lots of walks by yourself,” Goyle’s voice grunted. “You told us to stick by you. Now you telling us to not?”

“Yes, I am,” Draco growled irritated. “Now leave.”

The footsteps stopped, before continuing again. Harry continued to wait until he saw Draco, alone, smiling towards him. “Finally,” he breathed. “It’s getting harder and harder to get those two squibs to leave me alone.”

“Any reason why?” Harry asked as Draco sat down next to him. He moved closer to the Ice Prince and couldn’t help but smile when Draco wrapped an arm around his waist.

“I don’t know,” Draco shrugged. “I’m not saying or doing anything that should suspect them. Though they are the two biggest idiots I’ve ever met. I bet if you and I snogged in front of them, they wouldn’t notice anything.”

Harry chuckled and blushed at the thought of snogging Draco. “Would you?” he asked.

“Would I what?”

“Snog me in front of Crabbe and Goyle?” Harry asked.

Draco smirked and said, “Harry I would snog those beautiful lips in front of the whole Slytherin Table.”

Harry’s blush deepened as a thought occurred to him. “Then how about we have another bet? On today’s match. One on top of ours for our match.”

“Alright, sounds fun,” Draco smirked. “What you have in mind?”

“If I win today’s match,” Harry said. “You’ll snog me in front of the entire Slytherin Table at dinner tonight.”

“Already sounds like a win-win Harry,” Draco smirked. “And what if you somehow, impossibility lose?”

“If I lose…” Harry thought. “Then, I’ll show you something that I’ve learned.”

“Oh? And what is it that you learned Harry?” Draco asked.

“Something that Tom… the diary taught me,” Harry said. Draco looked at him uneasily. “What’s the matter Draco?”

“I’ve been… looking in on stuff like the diary,” Draco said. “Books talking back to people, that isn’t supposed to happen. They aren’t supposed to have an intelligent conversation with the reader. I don’t know what that diary is… but I think maybe you should pull back on writing in it. … how much do you write in it Harry?”

“About once every two days or so,” Harry frowned. “But if you think I should stop writing in it for now… I will.” Draco offered a small smiled and held Harry’s hand. “Thank you. I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Harry smiled.

“Of course it is, I like you,” Draco chuckled, kissing Harry’s cheek. “Also, I’ve saw that Firebolt so… be ready for that snog Harry. Though, I don’t think you’ll win the bet on our match. You are going against me after all.” Draco smirked cockily. “So be ready to do all my Defense Against the Dark Arts homework.”

“Actually I think I’ll be planning everything you’ll be paying for at Hogsmeade on our date,” Harry smirked. Draco met that smirked and kissed Harry’s cheek again. “Keep dreaming cub,” he said.

Draco stood up and Harry did also. “Why don’t you kiss my lips?” he asked. Draco turned around and chuckled. “I’m going to Harry. Tonight.”

“Tonight…” Harry said.

“Yes, where I’m going to show the whole school, staff and students, that Harry Potter is mine. You are my boyfriend, and there is nothing anybody can do about it,” Draco said.

“Boyfriend…” Harry said slowly, testing the word on his lips. “Draco Malfoy’s boyfriend. … You know, I think I like the sound of that.”

“Harry Potter’s boyfriend sounds even better,” Draco smirked. “You should go eat breakfast Harry, you have a bet to win.”

“I do, don’t I?” Harry asked, Draco’s cockiness rubbing off on him. “See you after the match then.”

“I’ll be watching your every move,” Draco stated. “You’re dating the Ice Prince of Slytherin Harry. Don’t mess up now.”

“Don’t worry Dray, I will,” Harry said making his way back towards the Great Hall and Gryffindor Table. The Firebolt was still in front of Ron and his empty seat, Ron’s hand ever on the handle, as if the broom would be stolen by an invisible thief at any second.

Harry returned to his seat and sat down. As soon as he did, Ron asked “What did Malfoy want?”

“Huh?”

“I saw Malfoy heading after you after you left,” Ron said. “What did he want?”

“Well…” Harry said, watching as Draco walked confidently back to his seat in Slytherin Table. “I think we just confirmed our relationship.”

“You mean you’re both—“

“Boyfriends, yeah,” Harry said. “I’m his boyfriend. … I have a boyfriend.”

“Congrats mate,” Ron said looking at the Slytherin table. “Still think he’s a git though.”

“Not a slimy git?”

“No… just a git. It’s a start,” Ron laughed, Harry joining in.

At a quarter to eleven, the Gryffindor team set off for the locker rooms. The weather couldn’t have been more different from their match against Hufflepuff. It was a clear, cool day with a very light breeze; there would be no visibility problems this time, and Harry was starting to feel the excitement only a Quidditch match could bring. He had to admit that, for the first time, he was genuinely excited to play a game. He wondered how his father would react knowing his son was really excited to play an official game. Harry took off his black school robes, removed his wand from his pocket, and stuck it inside the T-shirt he was going to wear under his Quidditch robes. He only hoped he wouldn’t need it. He wondered suddenly whether Professor Lupin-Black was in the crowd, watching.

They walked into the field to tumultuous applause. The Ravenclaw team, dressed in blue, were already standing in the middle of the field. Madam Hooch told the team captains to shake hands and mount their brooms. “On my whistle … three—two—one—“

Harry kicked off into the air and the Firebolt zoomed higher and faster than any other broom; he soared around the stadium and began squinting around for the Snitch, listening all the while to the commentary.

“They’re off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt that Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to _Witch Weekly_ , the Firebolt’s going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year’s World Championship—“

“Jordan, would you mind telling us what’s going on in the match?” Professor McGonagall’s voice interrupted.

“Right you are, Professor—just giving a bit of background information—the Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in auto-brake and—“

“Jordan!”

“Okay, okay, Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor heading for goal …”

Harry streaked past Katie in the opposite direction, gazing around for a glint of gold and noticing that Cho Chang was tailing him closely. She was undoubtedly a very good flier—she kept cutting across him, forcing him to change direction.

“Show her your acceleration, Harry!” Fred yelled as he whooshed past in pursuit of a Bludger that was aimed for Alicia.

Harry urged the Firebolt forward as they rounded the Ravenclaw goal posts and Cho fell behind. Just as Katie succeeded in scoring the first goal of the match, and the Gryffindor end of the field went wild, he saw it—the Snitch was close to the ground, flitting near one of the banners.

Harry dived; Cho saw what he was doing and tore after him—Harry was speeding up, excitement flooding him; dives were his specialty, he was ten feet away—

Then a Bludger, hit by one of the Ravenclaw Beaters, came pelting out of nowhere; Harry veered off course, avoiding it by an inch, and in those few, crucial seconds, the Snitch had vanished. There was a great “Oooooh” of disappointment from the Gryffindor supporters, but much applause for their Beater from the Ravenclaw end. George Weasley vented his feelings by hitting the second Bludger directly at the offending Beater, who was forced to roll right over in midair to avoid it.

“Gryffindor leads by eighty points to zero, and look at that Firebolt go! Potter’s really putting it through its paces now, see it turn—Chang’s Comet is just no match for it, the Firebolt’s precision-balance is really noticeable in these long—“

“JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!”

Ravenclaw was pulling back; they had now scored three goals, which put Gryffindor only fifty points ahead. Harry dropped lower, narrowly avoiding a Ravenclaw Chaser, scanning the field frantically—a glint of gold, a fluttering of tiny wings—the Snitch was circling the Gryffindor goal post—

Harry accelerated, eyes fixed on the speck of gold ahead—but just then, Cho appeared out of thin air, blocking him—

“HARRY, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN! KNOCK HER OFF!” Wood roared as Harry swerved to avoid a collision.

Harry turned and caught sight of Cho; she was grinning. The Snitch had vanished again. Harry turned his Firebolt upward and was soon twenty feet above the game. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cho following him. …She’d decided to mark him rather than search for the Snitch herself. Harry decided that she’ll have to face the consequences and began to dive immediately. Cho, thinking he’d seen the Snitch, tired to follow; Harry pulled out of the dive very sharply; she hurtled downward; he rose fast as a bullet once more, and then saw it, for the third time—the Snitch was glittering way above the field as the Ravenclaw end.

He accelerated, gaining on the Snitch with every second—then—

Three dementors, three tall, black, hooded dementors were looking up at him.

He didn’t stop to think. Plunging a hand down the neck of his robes, he whipped out his wand and roared, “Expecto patronum!”

Something silver-white, something enormous, erupted from the end of his wand. He knew it had shot directly at the dementors but didn’t pause to watch; his mind still miraculously clear, he looked ahead—he was nearly there. He stretched out his hand still grasping his wand and just managed to close his fingers over the small, struggling Snitch.

Madam Hooch’s whistle sounded. Harry turned around in midair and saw six scarlet blurs bearing down on him; next moment the whole team was hugging him so hard he was nearly pulled off his broom. Down below he could hear the roars of the Gryffindors in the crowd.

“That’s my boy!” Wood kept yelling. Alicia, Angelina, and Katie all kissed Harry; Fred had him in a grip so tight Harry felt as though his head would come off. In complete disarray, the team managed to make its way back to the ground. Harry got off his broom and looked up to see a gaggle of Gryffindor supporters sprinting onto the field, Ron in the lead. Before he knew it, he had been engulfed by the cheering crowd.

“That was some Patronus,” a voice said in Harry’s ear. He turned around to see Professor Lupin-Black, who looked both shaken and pleased.

“The dementors didn’t affect me at all!” Harry said excitedly. “I didn’t feel a thing!”

“That would be because they—er—weren’t dementors,” Professor Lupin-Black said. “Come and see—“

He led Harry out of the crowd until they were able to see the edge of the field. “You gave Mr. Flint quite a fright,” Lupin-Black said.

Harry stared. Lying in a crumpled heap on the ground were Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus Flint, all struggling to remove themselves from long, black hooded robes. Standing over them, with an expression of the utmost fury was Professor McGonagall.

“An unworthy trick!” she was shouting. “A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes now!”

Harry didn’t see Draco until leaving the Quidditch pitch, the Slytherin stalking him until he knew Harry was alone enough to talk with him. “Harry, are you okay?” he asked as Harry stopped, the rest of the Gryffindor House going back to the castle to celebrate in Gryffindor Tower. “I heard about what happened. Those damn idiots—“

“I’m fine,” Harry grinned. “Who cares about them? I won!”

“I know you did,” Draco smirked. “I’m so happy, you did brilliantly Harry!”

“Thanks,” Harry breathed. “But I’m actually more excited about something else,” he blushed. Draco chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t worry my cub, you won the bet, and I’m a man of my word. I heard you Gryffindors are celebrating in your Tower. So before you go and join them, meet me at the Great Hall my cub, and I will give you your just reward.”

Harry smiled, just loving the sound of Draco’s voice, and nodded before having a better idea. “Why not we just walk there together? Right now?”

Draco looked at Harry for a moment before smirking. “You want to do that? Show everyone we past that we are boyfriends before I snog the life out of you?”

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. Draco smirked again and took Harry’s hand. “Let’s go then. You can tell me all about that spell you casted on the squibs.”

Harry nodded and let Draco led him away from the Quidditch pitch. On the walk back to the castle he told Draco everything about the Patronus Charm, about how the dementors affected him and how Professor Lupin-Black had been giving him anti-dementors lessons to fight the dementors if they had ever came at him again either on the grounds or during a Quidditch match. When he was done talking, he was starting to feel out of breath and noticed that they were in the entrance hall.

“We’re all ready here?” Harry said surprised, a blush appearing on his cheeks.

“You kept us entertained the entire way,” Draco chuckled. He tugged Harry’s hand gently. “Are you ready for your reward?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, his head nodding enthusiastically. Draco smiled and pulled Harry into the Great Hall. The Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables were all filled, while the Gryffindor Table stood empty. Students looked at the doors when Harry and Draco walked in, and there was a shocked moment of silence when they saw a Gryffindor and Slytherin together. The silence turned to curious awe as the whole room seemed to realize who the two were.

The boys ignored them as Draco and Harry walked between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, until they were right in the center of both tables. Draco turned towards Harry and without a moment’s hesitation pulled the smaller boy to his body, crushing his lips onto Harry’s as he claimed Harry’s first kiss. Harry’s eyes closed as he let himself be taken over by the sensation, letting Draco control him, guide him in the kiss as opened his mouth and allowed Draco’s tongue to enter. Their tongues danced for a while before Harry submitted to Draco, allowing the Ice Prince to explore and devour his prize. His body felt heavy as he seemed to melt in Draco’s arms, his dominant being the only connection he had to the world and keeping him stable. All that matter was Draco’s tongue, Draco’s lips. Touching him, tasting him… It was heaven.

When they finally separated, Harry’s cheeks were rosy ready, beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead as he was out of breath. He looked around as the entire Great Hall erupted in gossip. He glanced at the staff table to see the teachers looking at both of them awkwardly, he could practically see the gears in Snape’s head as he tried to figure out how much points he could take from Gryffindor for that display. His eyes turned towards Slytherin Table and couldn’t feel prouder. Blaise’s eyes were huge with his grin, openly giving them both thumbs off as he showed his perfect teeth while the rest of Slytherin Table looked as a mix of shocked horror, pure outrage, and baffled confusion.

“Go enjoy your party cub, I’ll take care of things here,” Draco said giving Harry a small peck on the lips as he turned towards Slytherin Table. He sat down next to Blaise and shot the surrounding Slytherins a cold look, as if daring them to argue with their Prince and Leader. Harry turned and left the Great Hall extremely satisfied and very excited. He wanted to tell someone, anyone about the kiss. His first thought was Ron, though he thought he would save Ron the details of his best mate snogging his former rival. His next thought was to tell George, and settled on that.

He doubled his steps towards Gryffindor Tower and it was only when he stood in front of the Fat Lady that he remembered something crucial that he had forgotten. He didn’t tell Hermione about his relationship with Draco. Deciding that he better tell her now before her finding out by someone else, Harry spoke the password and entered through the Portrait hole.

“There’s the man of the hour!” Fred yelled as Harry walked through.

The nearby Gryffindors cheered as Harry stepped out of the portrait hole. It felt as though they had already won the Quidditch Cup, the party went on all night. Fred and George disappeared for a couple of hours and returned with armfuls of bottles of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags full of Honeydukes sweets.

“How did you do that?” Angelina Jonson squealed as George started throwing Peppermint Toads into the crowd.

“With a little help from Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,” Fred muttered in Harry’s ear.

Only one person wasn’t joining in the festivities. Hermione, incredibly, was sitting in a corner, attempting to read an enormous book entitled Home _Life and Social Habits of British Muggles._ Harry broke away from the table where Fred and George had started juggling butterbeer bottles and went over to her.

“Did you even come to the match?” he asked her, deciding to ease into the topic of Draco.

“Of course I did,” Hermione said in a strangely high-pitched voice, not looking up. “And I’m very glad we won, and I think you did really well, but I need to read this by Monday.”

“Come on, Hermione, come and have some food,” Harry said, looking over at Ron and wondering whether he was in a good enough mood to bury the hatchet.

“I can’t, Harry. I still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read!” Hermione said, now sounding slightly hysterical. “Anyway …” She glanced over at Ron too “ _He_ doesn’t want me to join in.”

There was no arguing with this, as Ron chose that moment to say loudly, “If Scabbers hadn’t just been _eaten_ , he could have had some of those Fudge Flies. He used to really like them—“

Hermione burst into tears. Before Harry could say or do anything, she tucked the enormous book under her arm, and, still sobbing, ran toward the staircase to the girls’ dormitories and out of sight.

“Can’t you give her a break?” Harry asked Ron quietly.

“No,” Ron said flatly. “If she just acted like she was sorry—but she’ll never admit she’s wrong, Hermione. She’s still acting like Scabbers has gone on vacation or something.”

The Gryffindor party ended only when Professor McGonagall turned up in her tartan dressing gown and hair net at one in the morning, to insist that they all go to bed. Harry walked to his dormitory, surprisingly not exhausted. He climbed into his bed, twitched the hangings of his four-poster shut to block out a ray of moonlight, lay back, and tried to go to sleep.

But he couldn’t he didn’t felt tired at all, instead he felt… awake, his dick tenting in his pants. Feeling a rush of arousal, Harry bit his lip as he pulled his pajama shirt off. Harry withheld a moan as he started to rub his chest, his eyes closed as he focused on the sensation of his hands. They drifted down towards his pants and easily pushed them off, leaving Harry laying on his bed naked, his cock standing fully erect and begging for attention. Aside from teaching him about Parseltongue, and listening to his troubles, the diary had also taught him more about how to pleasure himself, Tom admitting that he liked to have boys perform in front of him. He also suggested that Harry should do that for Draco as well.

Feeling brave and lewd, Harry spat on his hand and started to stroke his cock a few times, giving a small moan when pre-cum started to ooze out of the head. Then, an idea came to him. He reached out of his bed and grabbed his wand. He had never done what he was about to do, but Tom Riddle had described it multiple times that he thought he could easily do it himself. He moved up on his bed, making sure that he was comfortable, before he slowly began to lift his legs into the air. He arched and lifted his ass as well, exposing the spread cheeks to the cold night air as he locked his arm around his legs. His feet was against the stone walls of the castle and his cock pointing directly at his face. Harry felt that with enough practice he might be able to lick the head of his cock.

But for now, he had another thing planned. With his left arm holding his legs in place, he used his right arm to bring his wand up to his exposed hole. He muttered two spells that Tom had taught him, and shivered when he felt a cold sensation force itself into his ass, cleaning and leaving a wet substance Tom referred to as “lube.”

Harry placed his wand on his bed and brought his finger to his pink rosebud. He circled his pointer finger around the hole, moaning as his finger played with the lube at the entrance of his hole. He counted down in his head, before thrusting his finger in, his breath gasping as his finger broke the tight ring of muscles. He pushed as far as he could down into his hole, pain and pleasure mixing as he did so. His cock was dripping with pre-cum that lathered the top of his cock head before dripping down onto Harry’s chin and lips. His started to pull back his finger before thrusting it again, small gasps and moan escaping his lips as his finger was devoured by the hot velvet tightness of his ass. He took a couple of breaths and calmed down, relaxing his ass muscles as he tried to put two fingers in. The sensation was too much for the young Gryffindor as when he curled his fingers, he must have touched something as he had to bit his lip to hold in the scream as he came, ropes of his own cum hitting his chin, cheeks and lips as he opened his mouth to catch it.

He pulled his fingers from his hole, mewling at a sudden feeling of emptiness, and cleaned his face before falling asleep naked on top of the covers.

George Weasley and Oliver Wood did not feel like sleeping either that night. Both boys too were too filled with excitement and adrenaline to fall asleep when Professor McGonagall had told them too. So, while the rest of the Gryffindors slept, the two snuck back downstairs into the common room where they snogged on an armchair, George on the burly Gryffindor’s lap.

“Where did you learn how to snog?” Oliver chuckled.

“Flint,” George breathed. “He wasn’t as good as you though.”

Oliver chuckled and slapped George’s rump. “Good, I’m here to prove that I am better than Flint in every single way.”

“Well… you’re definitely hotter than him, and bigger,” George said, his arm stroking Oliver Wood’s bicep.

Wood smirked as he flexed, looking at George. “You haven’t seen anything yet. Get off my lap baby, I want to do something.”

George obeyed. “What do you want to do?” he asked.

Oliver Wood sat up tall in the armchair and looked at George. “I want you to suck my cock George. Can you do that?”

“I can,” George smirked playfully. “But I don’t know if I want to right now…”

“Then as your Quidditch Captain,” Oliver Wood said, matching George’s smirk, “I order you to suck my cock George.”

“Yes Captain,” George chuckled as he got onto his knees. The two boys worked together to get Oliver’s pants off, revealing his soft cock resting on the seat of the armchair, waiting for attention. “Dear god…” George gasped.

Wood looked proud at George’s reaction. “I’m not called ‘Wood’ just because it’s my last name, George I’ve measured myself. Soft, I’m six inches long, but when you get me hard George, you’re going to be dealing with ten inches long and six inches thick of pure satisfaction. So tell me, am I still bigger than Flint?”

“Yeah…” George breathed as he lovingly took Oliver’s cock in his hand. “So much bigger.”

“Then get to it baby,” Oliver said. George nodded and took no time at all putting Oliver’s thick cock in his mouth. He moaned loudly as he began to suck, unbuttoning his pants to get his own cock out as he continued to suck. Oliver moaned and put his hands in the redhead’s hair, he pushed George down on his cock as it started to grow. “Yeah… like that,” he moaned, his eyes closing in bliss.

George moaned as well as he felt the cock grow heavy and bigger on his tongue. He started to gag and breathed through his nose as he tried to handle Wood’s full length. His jaw was feeling sore, but he didn’t care. To him, it was as if he was in heaven as he worked on the largest cock he had ever seen.

“God you’re a good cocksucker,” Oliver moaned as George hummed. While George stroke himself with one hand, the other went to play with Oliver’s balls, causing Oliver to moan even more. “Ahh… Ahh… I want to come on that pretty face,” Oliver moaned. George got off of Oliver’s cock, spit and precum on both his bruised puffed lips and Oliver’s fat cock. He began to jerk off Oliver, both his hands moving at the same frequency. “Fuck… GEORGE!” Oliver yelled as he came all over George’s face. Ropes and ropes of cum hitting everywhere. George came soon after, cumming into his hand. When cum just started dripping from Oliver’s softening cock, George licked and cleaned his cock up before bringing his cum-soaked hand to his mouth and cleaning it as well. Oliver smirked and wiped his thumb across George’s cheek, collecting cum and holding it in front of George. “Eat all of it George,” he breathed.

George mewled and licked Oliver’s thumb clean. They continued this, Oliver collecting the cum and George licking it, until the redhead’s face was clean of cum and his mouth tasting heavenly. Oliver pulled George up from his knees and moved so they both squeezed into the armchair. “That was amazing George,” Oliver breathed. “I think I’m falling for you.”

George chuckled and relaxed onto Oliver’s shoulders as Oliver rubbed George’s knees, soothing them. “You know he never did that,” George said after a few moments of silence in which Oliver just rubbed and massaged George’s sore legs.

“After care is important,” Oliver said. “Dad taught me that.” George just nodded. “He just used to have me suck him, kiss then go.”

“You mean he never…”

“Nope,” George said. “No aftercare, and forget about sucking my cock!”

“You mean you never had your cock sucked before?” Oliver gasped. “We need to fix that,” he smirked.

“Too tired,” George yawned.

“Alright, next time then,” Oliver said. “Come on, we better go to sleep before McGonagall catches us. I don’t think it would be good if she saw you sitting on my naked lap.”

George gave a tired laugh and got up off from the bed. Oliver got up and fixed his pants before joining George as the two made their tired way up the staircase to the boys’ dormitory. When they reached their beds they slipped in and murmured their “good nights” before falling onto their pillows, going to sleep immediately.


	12. Consequences

Chapter 12

Consequences

The next morning, Harry received silent stares as he walked down into the Gryffindor common room. Harry looked around confused to see upper years giving him small glares as Harry waited for Ron or Hermione. Harry wondered briefly why there were stares as Ron came down the stairs from the boys’ dormitories.

“Why is everyone staring?” he asked Ron.

“Dunno,” Ron shrugged as they left the common room. As they walked towards the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry noticed that they were getting looks. Slytherins were giving him and Ron the normal sharp looks, but he noticed that Ravenclaws, and even Hufflepuffs were whispering around him as well. “Wonder what they’re talking about,” Ron said as they entered the entrance hall.

Harry’s stomach dropped as his mind went to last night’s events. “I think I know what they’re talking about,” he said.

“What is it?” Ron asked.

“Draco and I snogged in the Great Hall last night,” Harry said with a slight grimace. “Remember?”

“Oh yeah, you told me something about it,” Ron said as they went through the doors of the Great Hall. “In front of the entire school! What were you two thinking!?”

“Well,” Harry said, a blush coming to his cheeks. “We made a bet on the Quidditch match, and I won so…”

Ron groaned as he looked around at everyone staring at Harry and him. The Slytherins were glaring at Harry, but both he and Harry were surprised to see some Gryffindors glaring at him as well. The hall erupted into whispers and murmurs as Harry and Ron walked towards the Gryffindor table and sat down in their regular seats.

“So Harry,” a voice said. Harry looked around and saw Blaise Zabini standing over both him and Ron. The entire Gryffindor table was staring silently, confused why a Slytherin would dare come to Gryffindor territory. “Heard you and Draco had a bit of a kiss last night,” he chuckled.

“What’s it to you?” Ron asked, giving the Slytherin a glare. Blaise chuckled and smirked at Ron before turning his attention to a flustered Harry. “Harry, you didn’t introduce me to your best friend,” he chuckled. “Come on, I’m sure you two talk loads about me.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, still a bit flustered.

“Why you here?” Ron asked again. Blaise just give him a confident smirk and said, “Don’t worry your cute red-head about it. I just want to talk to my friend Harry here.”

Ron gave the Slytherin a sharp look as he ignored Ron and focused on Harry.

“What do you want Blaise?” Harry asked.

“Just wanted to see how you’re doing,” Blaise said.

“Fine,” Harry said uncertain. “Though, we keep getting looks.”

“What else do you expect when you snog a Slytherin?” Ron asked. Blaise chuckled and nodded.

“Draco is known for his theatrics,” he said. He looked at the two Gryffindors and gave them a small smile, “Well, that’s all I wanted to see with you Harry, hope you hold out okay.” He looked at Ron and gave him a smirk, “And it’s very nice to meet you Ron Weasley, hope to see more of you both.” Blaise walked away from Gryffindor Table, leaving behind him confused looks and murmurs as Gryffindors looked at Harry and Ron, as if checking to make sure the Slytherin hasn’t jinxed them.

Hedwig flew down towards Harry with the rest of the owls. Harry tore open the envelope Hedwig was holding while she helped herself to some of Neville’s cornflakes. The note inside said:

**_Dear Harry and Ron,_ **

****_How about having tea with me this afternoon ‘round six?_  
I’ll come and collect you from the castle.  
WAIT FOR ME IN THE ENTRANCE HALL;  
YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED OUT ON YOUR OWN.  
Cheers,  
Hagrid.

****

“Wonder what he wants,” Ron said.

“I don’t know,” Harry said. So at six o’clock that afternoon, Harry and Ron left Gryffindor Tower, Harry relieved to be away from the strange looks, and headed down to the entrance hall. Harry briefly wondered if Hermione would be there, he hasn’t seen the girl since last night.

Hagrid was already there waiting for them.

“S’pose you want to hear about Saturday night, do you?” Ron asked.

“I’ve already heard all abou’ it,” Hagrid said, opening the front doors and leading them outside. “Don’t wanna talk bou’ that today.”

“Oh,” both Ron and Harry said.

The first thing they saw on entering Hagrid’s hut was Buckbeak, who was stretching out on top of Hagrid’s patchwork quilt, his enormous wings folded tight to his body, enjoying a large plate of dead ferrets. Averting his eyes from this unpleasant sight, Harry saw a gigantic, hairy brown suit and a very horrible yellow-and-orange tie hanging from the top of Hagrid’s wardrobe door.

“What are they for, Hagrid?” Harry asked.

“Buckbeak’s case against the Committee for the Disposal o’ Dangerous Creatures,” Hagrid said. “This Friday. Him an’ me’ll be goin’ down ter London together. I’ve booked two beds on the Knight Bus. …”

Harry felt a nasty pang of guilt. He had completely forgotten that Buckbeak’s trial was so near, and judging by the uneasy look on Ron’s face, he had too. They had also forgotten their promise about helping him prepare Buckbeak’s defense; the arrival of the Firebolt had driven it out of their minds.

Hagrid poured them tea and offered them a plate of Bath buns, but they knew better than to accept; they had too much experience with Hagrid’s cooking.

“I got somethin’ ter discuss with you two,” Hagrid said, sitting himself between them and looking uncharacteristically serious.

“What?” Harry said.

“Hermione,” Hagrid said.

“What about her?” Ron said.

“She’s in a righ’ state, that’s what. She’s bin comin’ down ter visit me a lot since Chris’mas. Bin feelin’ lonely. Firs’ yeh weren’ talking to her because o’ the Firebolt, now yer not talkin’ to her because her cat—“

“—ate Scabbers!” Ron interjected angrily.

“Because her cat acted like all cats do,” Hagrid continued doggedly. “She’s cried a fair few times, yeh know. Goin’ through a rough time at the moment. Bitten off more’n she can chew if yeh ask me, all the work she’s tryin’ ter do. Still found time ter help me with Buckbeak’s case, mind. …She’s found some really good stuff fer me …reckon he’ll stand a good chance now. …”

“Hagrid, we should’ve helped as well—sorry—“ Harry began awkwardly.

“I’m not blamin’ yeh!” Hagrid said, waving Harry’s apology aside. “Gawd knows yeh’ve had enough ter be gettin’ on with. I’ve seen yeh practicin’ Quidditch ev’ry hour o’ the day an’ night—but I gotta tell yeh, I thought you two’d value yer friend more’n broomstricks or rats. Tha’s all.”

Harry and Ron exchanged uncomfortable looks.

“She’s got her heart in the right place, Hermione has, an’ you two not talkin’ to her—“

“If she’d just get rid of that cat, I’d speak to her again!” Ron said angrily. “But she’s still sticking up for it! It’s a maniac, and she won’t hear a word against it!”

“Ah, well, people can be a bit stupid abou’ their pets,” Hagrid said wisely. Behind him, Buckbeak spat a few ferret bones onto Hagrid’s pillow.

“Hagrid…” Harry began awkwardly, “about last night in the Great Hall—“

“Just be careful Harry,” Hagrid said. “Don’t know why you pick Malfoy, though.”

“Oh…” Harry said. He looked at Ron, and hoped for him to change the topic. Ron got the look and nodded.

They spent the rest of their visit discussing Gryffindor’s improved chances for the Quidditch Cup. At nine o’clock, Hagrid walked them back up to the castle.

A large group of people was bunched around the bulletin board when they returned to the common room.

“Hogsmeade, next weekend!” Ron said, craning over the heads to read the new notice. “What d’you reckon?” he added quietly to Harry as they went to sit down.

“Well, Filch hasn’t done anything about the passage into Honeydukes. …” Harry said, even more quietly.

“Harry!” a voice said in his right ear. Harry started and looked around at Hermione, who was sitting at the table right behind them and clearing a space in the wall of books that had been hiding her.

“Harry, if you go into Hogsmeade again …I’ll tell Professor McGonagall about the map!” Hermione said.

“Can you hear someone talking, Harry?” growled Ron, not looking at Hermione. Harry gave Ron a small glare and sighed, maybe he and Ron were being prats.

“Hermione…”

“Harry,” Hermione said, “can I ask you about this thing I heard?”

“Err… what is it?” Harry asked.

“I heard from Parvati Patil that her sister told her that you and Malfoy were… well you two were kissing… in the Great Hall… in front of everyone. And then you left,” Hermione said awkwardly, her face flustered as she tried to avoid Harry’s face.

Harry was flustered as well, his face nearly the shade of red as Ron’s hair. “Umm yeah… it’s true,” he said.

Hermione looked up at Harry, seemingly betrayed and heartbroken. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “Why didn’t you tell me that you and Malfoy were…”

“I tried,” Harry argued. “I tried telling you last night, during the party but Ron made you run to the girls’ dormitories.”

Ron looked at both of them shocked. “Not my fault she’s done enough damage this year!”

“Still, you could have told me this morning,” Hermione said. “I thought I deserve better than to learn my friend snogged his supposed enemy second-hand.”

Guilt boiled in Harry again. He opened his mouth to apologize, but with a soft hiss, Crookshanks leapt onto Hermione’s lap. Hermione took one frightened look at the expression on Ron’s face, gathered up Crookshanks, and hurried away towards the girls’ dormitories.

“So how about it?” Ron said to Harry, as though there had been no interruption. “Come on, last time we went you didn’t see anything. You haven’t even been inside Zonko’s yet!”

“Maybe,” Harry said. He stood up and left Ron as he went towards the boys’ dormitories, the guilt leading him towards the book he hadn’t touch for so long.

“Tom, help,” he wrote into the diary.

 _“Harry, it has been so long. Where have you been?”_ the words immediately replied. Harry stared at Riddle’s response and thought before writing, telling the diary about every detail that happened since he last wrote.

“I don’t know what to do,” he finished.

Harry waited with baited breath as he watched the ink ooze into the page, being absorbed by the magic diary. It took a few moments, then paragraphs appeared as Riddle replied.

 _“First you should calm down Harry,”_ Riddle began. _“The arguments with your friends are now done and can be looked at later. First we much address something more important. You and Malfoy have kissed, snog as you put it, in front of the entire school no doubt. There will be serious consequences of this, no doubt his father and yours will hear of it. Either by your own mouths or by their associates. If both you and Malfoy fear your fathers as I believe you do, then I believe that the best course of action would be to tell them in person, immediately. You have the Invisibility Cloak, I am sure you can find a way to reach your father. As for now, I think you need a distraction. A project, if you will, that will keep your mind off of your friends, off of your father, and off of all your troubles.”_

“What do you have in mind?” Harry wrote, his head starting to feel light as a yawn escaped his lips.

 _“What do you know of The Chamber of Secrets?”_ the diary wrote.

Harry was confused, he had never heard of it. “Nothing.”

_“The Chamber is one of a few things left by the great Salazar Slytherin. It is a chamber that only those he deems worthy can access, those who are like you and me. Parselmouths. When he left Hogwarts, Slytherin had told the school of the Chamber’s existence, but only us Parselmouths can know and find the true location of it. The school has tried to find it multiple times, and each time they have failed. Every time the Chamber of Secrets has been open, the school has become something better, something purer. The last time the Chamber has been open was fifty years ago. I had opened it, and used Salazar Slytherin’s secret to better Hogwarts.”_

A feeling of dread appeared in Harry, but it was quickly squashed down as he stared at the ink. It felt as if the diary was forcing him to focus only on it, that whatever Riddle was writing was the only thing that matter. Any thoughts of how wrong or fear Harry felt was pushed down with his dread as artificial compliance and curiosity made him wrote, “What is in the Chamber?”

_“A most magnificent and powerful beast. A basilisk. The Chamber of Secrets is home to Salazar’s basilisk, a creature used to vanquish his enemies, as well as his heirs’.”_

“But I have no enemies,” Harry wrote. “None in Hogwarts.”

_“You are wrong. That muggleborn you have told me of constantly, this Hermione Granger. She is holding you and Ronald Weasley back. She is constantly parading her intelligence and making you and Ron feel worthless. Why, it is more than anyone can bear, isn’t it? Her constant badgering and forcing you to do what she wants. Hogwarts, and your lives, would be so much fuller, so much better, if she wasn’t here. She is the reason why you are angry at your best friend after all. Are you really going to let that girl stand between you and your best friend? Between you and your lover? She’ll never accept your relationship, we both know that. She will try everything in her power to separate you and Draco.”_

“She would never do that!”

_“No? Then why didn’t she congratulate you? Why isn’t she happy with your relationship with Draco? Harry, I am trying to protect you. Go, carry this book and go out of the boys’ dormitories Bring your quill and leave Gryffindor Tower. Head towards the second floor girls bathroom and all will be revealed. Now, walk.”_

Harry tried to resist, he tried to fight back. But his legs seemed to have a mind of their own as he closed the diary and shot up from bed. He held the diary close and began walking, slowly, each step seemingly deliberate. And with each step Harry found that his vision was fading, a blackness overtaking the boundaries of his surroundings. The darkness inching closer and closer together, his vision narrowing as he went down the stairs, his awareness and mind going as well. He couldn’t fight it, he couldn’t scream. His surroundings kept surrendering to the darkness. Then, at the bottom of the stairs, everything went black.

 

“It seems that our sons have an interesting relationship,” Lucius Malfoy said to James. James was in his office when the Malfoy barged in.

“Go away Malfoy, unlike you, I have actual work to do,” James said, not looking up from his report. It seems that the dementors were terrorizing the citizens of Hogsmeade, and Kingsley was thinking of sending him to deal with it.

“You mean you did not hear? My how embarrassing,” Lucius smirked. “Lucky for you, I have.”

“Have what Malfoy?” James asked annoyed.

“Why, it seems that our sons are in a relationship with each other,” Lucius said. “Your filthy half-blood of a son seemed to think it was proper to ruin my child and kiss him. Right in front of the Great Hall.”

James Potter looked up from his report, his mind barely processing what Lucius had just said. He slammed his hands against his desk and growled out, “Don’t you dare call my son a filthy half-blood.”

“Well, it is true,” Lucius chuckled. “To think that your son thought right to drag Draco into his perversion. I should have him expelled for that.”

“What the fuck are you talking about Malfoy?”

“Why, this,” Lucius said, pulling out a photo out of his robes. “Pansy Parkinson was kind enough to take a picture of the moment and send it to me. She believed that it would be beneficial if I see this, and believe me it is. I have just finished writing a severe letter to my son, which will be followed by a personal visit after the trail. I just thought that—“

James snatched the photo from Malfoy’s hand and looked at it. It was a still photo, but James saw plenty. There, in the Great Hall, was his son, leaning up and against Draco Malfoy, their arms around each other as their mouths were firmly connected. James could see the look of pure happiness in Harry, the expressions, the way he held himself, and, for a moment, he had forgotten everything and felt… happy. But that second was ruined as old voices and tragedies flooded into his head, his happiness felt with anger, despair, self-hatred, and rage.

Harry Potter, his son, was kissing a boy. His first kiss was with a boy! The spawn of a man James hated most. And this Pansy Parkinson dared to ruin it, immortalize it, by taking a photo. He continued to stare at the picture as Lucius Malfoy went on about how he was going to “correct” his son.

“Get out,” James finally said. He pocketed the photograph and sat back down at his desk. Lucius looked at him offended.

“Don’t you—“

“Get out!” James roared in anger. “Or so help me I’ll reopen your case and have you thrown into Azkaban!”

Lucius simply gave James a cold, calculating look and said, “Very well.” He closed the door behind him.

James gave an exhausted sigh and took out the photo again. He looked at it, and again that feeling of happiness came to him. He tried to hold onto that happiness, his pride for his son finding someone to spend his intimate time with. But old wounds washed it away, and in an act of frustration, James tore the picture.

 

Harry awoke to a sense of panic. He looked around, and almost yelled in fright when he realized that he was on the second floor. He looked down at the diary and threw it on the ground in fear. That thing had controlled him! He lost conscious and did as the diary commanded; made him think that he wanted to—no he would never do that! He needed help, he needed to get rid of it. He needed—he needed… he needed Draco. He needed to tell Draco and have him help him get rid of the blasted diary.

Harry looked down at the diary. He didn’t want to touch it, yet he didn’t want to leave it where anyone can find it. Harry took off his robe and wrapped the diary with it. Holding the clothed diary in his arms, Harry turned and quickly made his way towards the grand staircase. He didn’t know where or how he’ll get to the Slytherin common room. All he knew was that it was located in the dungeons.

Harry ran down the staircases, taking the stairs two steps at a time as he stared down, making sure that he did not trip. He miraculously did not run into any prefects or teachers as he reached the entrance hall, turning around to go further down into the dungeons. Harry had only gone down to the dungeons for potions class, and instead of hanging a right at the first intersection towards the potion classrooms, Harry instead turned left and began his way down the maze of corridors that was Hogwart’s underbelly.

The diary still wrapped in his robes, Harry had no idea how long he was walking around, the corridors blending into each other as he searched endlessly for the entrance to the Slytherin Dungeons. His feet started to hurt as he turned another corridor, he started to feel light-headed again, a small urge to open the diary bubbling inside him.

“Look who it is,” a voice grunted behind him. Harry turned around to see Crabbe and Goyle standing in front of him, both Slytherins resembling trollish boys as they stood shoulder to shoulder.

“What you doing here Potter?” Goyle grunted.

Harry looked between the two of them. He didn’t want to drop the diary, yet he felt like he needed to get his wand out quick. “Looking for Draco,” he said, trying to size himself up.

“What you want with Malfoy, Potter?” Goyle demanded.

“Yeah, we don’t like that you and him are spending time together,” Crabbe said. “No one does.”

“It’s none of your business,” Harry said, remembering how his boyfriend is Slytherin’s Ice Prince.

“Really? Well you’re in Slytherin territory Potter, no one to help you here,” Goyle said.

“Slytherin territory,” Harry repeated, his brain working overtime as he tried to act like Draco. He needed to get these two to bring him to the Slytherin Dungeon. “That’s right I am in Slytherin territory… which means that it’s run by Draco.”

“Yeah, you got that right,” Goyle grunted.

“And he doesn’t want any stupid Gryffindors in here, especially after what you done to him and Zabini,” Crabbe said.

“What I did to them?” Harry asked.

“Yeah! Making them fags! Flint said that you made Malfoy and Zabini fags!” Crabbe said.

“I didn’t do that,” Harry said. “They were born that way. Besides, I think Draco would be mad at you if you don’t bring me to him.”

“What you talking about Potter?”

“I’m Draco’s boyfriend,” Harry began. “If he heard that I was looking for him… and then found out that you two stopped me from seeing him… he’s not called the Ice Prince of Slytherin for nothing.”

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, slightly nervous. “He would never do anything to us,” Crabbe said.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, slowly gaining confidence as he watched the two grunts grow confuse and uncertain. “So what if you two are in the same house as him. We all know that Draco cared more about me, he always did.”

“He hated you,” Crabbe said.

“Still he spent more time thinking about me then you two,” Harry said. He hugged his robe closer to him as he took a step towards the two goons. “When was the last time he was actually interesting in you? Talked about your hobbies? Your interests?”

Crabbe and Goyle glanced at each other and Harry felt victorious. “You two follow him, because he deserves to be followed,” he continued. “Those who don’t… they’re going to be in trouble with Draco. I know that’s true.”

“Yeah… Draco tells us not to talk to them for a bit, ignore they exist,” Crabbe admitted.

Harry nodded and said, “That’s only if you disobey him. Imagine what he would do to you two, knowing that you kept his boyfriend from him. …”

Crabbe and Goyle again shared that same dumb look and Goyle grunted, “You’re coming with us Potter. No fighting.”

They both grabbed an arm roughly, Harry squeezing his robe and the hidden diary to his chest as they did so, and he allowed the two Slytherins to manhandle him as they escorted him throughout the dungeons. The two Slytherins led Harry down a corridor, turned left, and down a set of stairs Harry never saw before. At the end of the stairs was a stone brick wall with moss growing on it. Crabbe and Goyle let go of him as Goyle walked up to the wall. Crabbe meanwhile squished his hands against Harry’s ears, pushing hard as he tried to block out the sounds of Goyle saying the password to the wall.

The wall shuttered and slid out, revealing an archway that led into the Slytherin Dungeon. Crabbe and Goyle again placed their hands on Harry and dragged him into the common room, the wall closing behind him.

The common room was filled with Slytherins, all sitting around on low backed black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas. The entire room had a green tint to it as the lamps gave out a green light, as well as a huge window showing what Harry guessed was the underwater of the Black Lake. Every Slytherin turned their attention to the three as they came in. “The hell is he doing here!?” a Slytherin yelled when he noticed Harry.

“What are you idiots doing bringing a Gryffindor in here for?” another demanded.

“Get out Potter! You don’t belong here!”

“Fuck off Potter!”

“Stop it!”

The last voice was an all too familiar voice as Draco stood up from his place with Blaise. Blaise looked over and gave Harry a confused look. Draco glared at Crabbe and Goyle and said, “Take your squib hands off of Harry at once! Who do you think you are?”

“We found him wondering the dungeons!” Crabbe argued.

“Yeah! We thought you should know—“

“Just get away from him. Now,” Draco said coldly. Harry felt as if the entire common room fell several degrees as Draco glared at the two. The grunts let go of Harry immediately, and he stumbled before regaining his balance.

“We need to talk… _now_ ,” Harry said. Draco looked at the bundle in Harry’s arms confused, but nodded. He opened his mouth and addressed the entire common room. “Everybody out!”

“Screw you Malfoy! We’re not doing what Potter wants,” Flint said from his seat. Draco turned to him and said, “For that Flint, I will personally make sure that your family is forgotten. Remember who it was that gave your team the Nimbuses.”

Flint glared at Draco and turned his view to Harry. “Snake’s Bitch.” He spat before leaving the common room. The other Slytherins followed, all groaning and muttering, but looking apprehensively at Harry and Draco. Blaise stayed where he was, as well as Crabbe and Goyle.

“Are you deaf as well as squibs?” Draco demanded at Goyle and Crabbe. “Go to the dormitories.”

“Blaise can stay,” Harry said quickly. Blaise shot Harry a small smile. Draco just nodded and led Harry to the sofas as Crabbe and Goyle left. “What’s the matter Harry?” he asked. “What is in your robe?”

Harry looked between the two of them and laid the robe out on the table. He unfolded it until Riddle’s diary was laying on top of it. He looked nervously between Blaise and Draco, thinking of how he can explain what happened.

“Harry, is that the diary I gave you?” Draco asked.

“Yeah,” Harry began. “I know you didn’t tell me to write in it but… I just felt compelled to. Ron and Hermione are still fighting, and both of them are mad at me and in that moment I just… ran to the diary. Riddle replied and for some reason I just started to feel light headed. He told me that Hermione… that she would never accept our relationship Draco, and that she was holding me and Ron back. I knew it was all lies but still… I couldn’t just throw the book away. He then told me about a thing called the Chamber of Secrets, and the thing in there can help… get rid of Hermione. Next thing I knew my body was moving by its own and everything went black. … Then I woke up on the second floor and I was really scared. I picked up the diary in my robe and brought it down here. I don’t know what to do Draco, I’m scared.”

“Harry… if I knew that this would happen… I would have never given you the diary,” Draco said.

“I don’t blame you Draco,” Harry said. “I just need your help getting rid of it.”

Draco and Blaise looked down at the diary in fear while Blaise looked confused and worried. He looked down at the diary and looked at the fireplace roaring next to them. “Then it’s simple,” he said. “Let’s just toss it into the fire.”

And before Harry or Draco could react, Blaise took up the diary, and threw it violently into the fire. The fire crackled and burned around the diary, and Harry watched with baited breath, hoping that the fire would be enough to destroy it. But the longer Harry watched the diary, dread filled in him as he noticed that there was no damage to it. It was as if the fire simply danced around it, licking the book but doing no damage to it.

“Draco…”

“I know.”

“What is this thing!?” Blaise demanded as he took out his wand. He pointed it at the fire and casted an extinguishing spell at the fireplace. The fire died out, and laying perfectly still on the charred and burnt logs was the diary in perfect condition. The three boys looked at each other, all scared and helpless as they stared at the dairy.

“What did I bring in?” Draco said to himself. He sat up and knelt in front of the fire. Hesitantly he put his hand into the fireplace, and gasped when his fingers touched the cover of the book. “It’s cold,” he said. He picked up the book and placed it again on Harry’s robes. Draco opened the book and flipped through the pages quickly. “Not a hint of burns,” he said.

“We need to give this to Dumbledore,” Harry said. “It’s out of our control.”

“You’re right,” Draco nodded. “I’m so sorry Harry. I should never have given this thing to you.”

Harry gave Draco a reassuring smile and shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself Draco, there’s no way you could have known.” And to make sure Draco knew that Harry didn’t blame him, Harry closed the distance between them and kissed him briefly. “Come on, we have to show this to Dumbledore… now.”

Harry and Draco stood up and Harry again wrapped the diary in his robes. “Blaise, are you coming?”

“No, I’m not,” Blaise said, his eyes locked on the robes. “That thing scares me too much. …I think I’ll wait for you guys to tell me what happened.”

Harry and Draco nodded and left the Slytherin Dungeons. They were silent as they walked, both scared of the small book Harry was holding as they exited the dungeons. They reached the third floor when they ran into somebody. “What are you boys doing out of bed?” Professor Lupin-Black asked.

“We need to get to Dumbledore,” Harry said. “We need his help.”

“Whatever for?” Professor Lupin-Black asked.

Harry and Draco looked at each other, worried. “It is very urgent, Professor,” Draco said. “Please.”

“Very well, follow me,” Professor Lupin-Black sighed, eyeing the bundle in Harry’s arms. Harry and Draco followed Professor Lupin-Black back towards the grand staircase and onto the second floor. He led the boys towards a corridor with an ugly stature of a gargoyle at the end of it. “Acid pop,” Professor Lupin-Black told the gargoyle.

The gargoyle sprung to life and jumped out of the way, revealing a spiraling staircase that rose from the ground. “Up there boys. Afterwards, I think you two should return to your dormitories immediately. Good night,” Professor Lupin-Black said. He waited till Harry and Draco started to climb the staircase before leaving them.

Harry and Draco walked to the top of the spiraling staircase and knocked on the door. They waited until they heard Dumbledore’s voice say “Come in,” and opened the door. The boys entered and found Professor Dumbledore wearing a night robe.

“Ah, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy,” Professor Dumbledore said. “What do I owe this late night visiting?”

“We need to show you something,” Harry said. He walked towards Dumbledore’s desk and placed his robe on it. Dumbledore watched curiously as Harry unwrapped the diary. “This is a diary that belonged to Tom Riddle,” Harry said.

Dumbledore frowned and said, “You both need to sit down boys, I believe we will be here for a while.” Harry and Draco sat down in front of Dumbledore’s desk as the Professor sat in his chair. “You must tell me everything involved with this diary,” Dumbledore said seriously.

Harry nodded and both boys started to tell Dumbledore everything about the diary. From Draco finding it in his father’s study, giving it to Harry as a Christmas present, and every session of Harry writing in it, and how the ink disappears into the diary, only for Riddle’s reply to appear. When Harry was done telling Dumbledore of the events that just happened, and of the Chamber of Secrets, Dumbledore remained quiet as he thought out his response.

“I am glad to see that both of you are uninjured because of this book,” Dumbledore said. “Though, I wish that this had been brought to my attention sooner. This diary is a very dangerous object.”

“Sir… is it because of the Chamber of Secrets?” Harry asked.

“That is one reason, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Another one is that this diary was once owned by Lord Voldemort himself.”

“You-Know-Who?” Harry gasped.

“Please Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Call him Voldemort. Always use the proper name of things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself. But yes, the person you know as Tom Riddle grew up to become Lord Voldemort.”

“Then the thing that… Voldemort told me about,” Harry said. “About the Chamber being open. …”

“Is true, that is correct,” Dumbledore said. “Fifty years ago the Chamber of Secrets has been open, and a student has died because of it. It seems that Voldemort would want to repeat the incident, killing those he deemed unworthy.”

“Muggleborns,” Draco said.

“Correct, Draco,” Dumbledore said.

“But why me?” Harry asked. “Why did he want me to open the Chamber?”

“I believe you told me the reason already Harry,” Dumbledore said. “It is because of your unique ability to talk to snakes.”

“Parseltongue is an extremely rare ability Harry,” Draco said. “Only those descendent from Salazar Slytherin can have it.”

Harry nodded and frowned. He didn’t like knowing that he and Voldemort apparently had a common ancestor. “We tried to throw it into a fireplace,” he said, “but it didn’t burn.”

“We thought that if we give it to you, then you would know a way to destroy it,” Draco said.

Dumbledore nodded and looked down at the diary, “That is very frightening,” he said. “So much so for boys your age. I am afraid to tell you both that at the moment, I do not know how to properly dispose of this dangerous object, nor can I properly identify it. But rest assured that it is in safe hands with me. You do not need to worry about the diary any longer, nor about the worries it has caused both of you.”

“Thank you Professor,” Draco said standing up.

Professor Dumbledore nodded and stood up. He picked up the diary and opened a drawer, dropping the diary in it and closing it up. “Now I suggest we all go to bed. You boys have a busy morning after all,” Dumbledore said. “I always find Monday mornings to be the longest of all. Good night boys.”

“Good night Professor,” they both said as they left, Harry taking his robes with him.

They went down the spiral staircase and Draco turned to Harry. “How are you feeling, cub?” he asked.

“Fine…” Harry said, not believing himself. He looked at Draco and blushed as he said, “Can… can I sleep with you? For tonight?”

Draco chuckled and nodded. “Of course Harry, come on. Let’s go to bed.”


	13. Dates and Dead Rats

Chapter 13

Dates and Dead Rats

As the week passed, Harry and Draco noticed that news of their relationship seemed to diminish only slightly. They still received looks and whispered, but Harry at least wasn’t being ostracized from Gryffindor Tower like he was when the news came out.

On Saturday morning, Harry packed his Invisibility Cloak in his bag, slipped the Marauder’s Map into his pocket, and went down to breakfast with everyone else. He decided that he wanted to go to Hogsmeade, not only to see if Ron and him are okay, but also to spend the day with Draco. Hermione kept shooting suspicious looks down the table at him, but he avoided her eye and was careful to let her see him walking back up the marble staircase in the entrance hall as everyone else proceeded to the front doors. He did however, smiled and winked at Draco.

Harry hurried up to the third floor, slipping the Marauder’s map out of his pocket as he went. Crouching behind the one-eyed witch, he smoothed it out. A tiny dot was moving in his direction. Harry squinted at it. The minuscule writing next to it read _Neville Longbottom_.

“ _Dissendium!_ ” Harry quickly muttered as he pulled out his wand and shoved his bag into the statue. He climbed into the passage as well, and waited as he heard Neville walk by the statue. He pulled out the map again and watched as Neville’s dot walked away from the one-eyed statue. He waited ten minutes, just staring at the map and making sure no one was coming near him, before going down the secret passage.

When he reached Honeydukes, Harry made sure the coast was clear before entering the shop proper from the basement. The sweets shop was crowded as ever, and Harry quickly blended into the crowd as he made his way towards the doorway. He prodded Ron in the back when he saw him.

“It’s me,” Harry said.

“What kept you?” Ron asked.

“Had to wait till the coast was clear,” Harry said. They set of up the High Street. They went to the post office and Ron pretended to be checking the price of an owl to Bill in Egypt so that Harry could have a good look around. The owls sat hooting softly down at him, at least three hundred of them; from Great Grays right down to tiny little Scops owls, which were so small they could have sat in the palm of Harry’s hand.

Then they visited Zonko’s, which was so packed with students Harry and Ron could barely take a step without bumping into someone. There were jokes and tricks to fulfill even Fred’s and George’s wildest dreams; Harry needed to buy some for himself. They left Zonko’s with their money bags considerably lighter than they had been on entering, but their pockets bulging with Hiccup Sweets, Frog Spawn Soap, and a Nose-Biting Teacup apiece.

The day was fine and breezy, and neither of them felt like saying indoors, so they walked past the Three Broomsticks and climbed a slop to visit the Shrieking Shack, the most haunted dwelling in Britain. It stood a little way above the rest of the village, and even in daylight was slightly creepy, with its boarded windows and dank overgrown garden.

“Even the Hogwarts ghosts avoid it,” Ron said as they leaned on the fence, looking up at it. “I asked Nearly Headless Nick …he says he’s heard a very rough crowd lives here. No one can get in. Fred and George tried, obviously, but all the entrances are sealed shut. …”

“There you are,” a voice said behind them. They turned around to see Draco standing with Blaise. “We were looking all over for you Harry.”

“Draco!” Harry said, looking slightly flustered as a smile crept on his face. He automatically walked towards Draco and hugged the Slytherin as Ron stood still. “Where were you?” he asked.

“Three Broomsticks,” Draco said.

“We were waiting for you,” Blaise said. He looked at Ron and waved. “Hi Weasley.”

“Umm hi,” Ron said. “Harry…” he said uncertainly, looking at his friend.

Harry looked around and blushed. “Oh, umm sorry Ron, do you mind if Draco and I spend some time together?”

“No, no, no, no,” Ron said quickly.

“Don’t worry Ronald,” Blaise smirked as he walked towards the redhead. “I’ll spend the day with you. Have you been to Zonko’s yet? There are some things I want to buy to use on some Slytherins I know.”

“Wait, what?” Ron said confused, looking at Blaise. “You mean not all of you stick up for the gits?”

Draco looked slightly offended but Blaise just laughed. “Of course not, there are several Slytherins who needs a good prank. Like Flint. Did you hear that he broke up with his boyfriend and now acting like a total ass to everyone? He needs to be brought down a peg or two. Now…”

“I think we should leave them alone,” Draco chuckled as they looked at the surprised, if satisfied look on Ron’s face as the two talked about Slytherins who are gits. “Come on, are you hungry? I know a very corny shop all student couples need to visit.”

They walked down the hill and back onto the main street. Harry wondered where Draco was bringing him as they walked down the street. “If you and I don’t like it,” Draco said as they passed by shops, going into a side street, “we’ll just head towards the Three Broomsticks if you want. But I heard a lot of the older Slytherins talking about this place. …Here it is—oh…”

Harry looked at where Draco had brought them and something flipped in his stomach as he looked at the tea shop. The first thing that came to Harry’s mind was pink and tack. The walls were painted pink, a huge window next to the pink door that showed couples sitting close together. Everything seemed to be decorated with frills or bows.

“This is… something,” Harry said, looking at Draco. Both boys had a look of utter grimace.

“Well… hopefully the drinks are good,” Draco said. Harry nodded in agreement and they hesitantly walked into the shop, Harry now noticing the sign that read _Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop._

They sat down at the last remaining table, which was situated in the steamy window. Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Seeker, was witting about a foot and a half away with the very handsome Cedric Diggory. They were holding hands. The sight made Harry feel uncomfortable, particularly when, looking around the tea shop, he saw that it was full of nothing but straight couples, all of them holding hands.

“What can I get you, m’dears?” Madam Puddifoot, a very stout woman with a shiny black bun, said squeezing between their table and Cedric Diggory’s with great difficulty.

“Two coffees,” Draco ordered. He turned to Harry and looked around. “To be honest, this probably isn’t one of my best ideas. But it is better than being stuck with the squibs and Parkinson.”

“Is she bothering you?” Harry asked.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” Draco said. “I am just so mad at her right now. I’m sorry but when we kissed, that girl had the nerve to photograph it! And worst of all she… she sent it to my father!”

“What?” Harry said, shocked. “That… that bitch!” He might have said that word a bit too loud as several couples turned to glare at him. Cedric and Cho looked over at him and Cedric said, “Harry, that’s not a nice thing to say about a girl.” Cho giggled softly while nodding.

“Well, the girl we are talking about is one Diggory,” Draco explained. “She dared to photograph mine and Harry’s first kiss.”

The two Seekers gave them a look of understanding before returning to their own business.

“What are we going to do?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know,” Draco said. “Father hasn’t contacted me at all since then. I know he will be furious, he might even try to do something drastic.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… have the hippogriff killed just to spite me? I’ve been sending daily letters to him not to do it, to just drop the charges,” Draco said. “I even suggested just having the creature removed from Hogwarts grounds.”

“Really?” Harry asked, impressed.

“Yes,” Draco said. “I even mailed the Minister a few times asking him to just stop it and focus on the dementors. I’ve seen the way they affected you…”

“I didn’t think you would do all of that for me,” Harry admitted.

“Harry… I would do so much more for you,” Draco said, taking his hand. “If only you’ll let me.”

“After hearing what you said… I think I will,” Harry smiled. Draco returned it and they relaxed into their seats. They heard a chuckle and Harry turned to see Cedric giving the young Seeker and wink and a thumbs-up.

When their coffee had arrived, Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory started kissing over their sugar bowl. Harry wished they wouldn’t, it was too gross and weird seeing two Quidditch players he played against kissing. He felt his face growing hot and tried staring out the window, but it was so steamed up he could not see the street outside.

“This place is umm…” Harry said.

“Frilly,” Draco said, taking a sip of his coffee. He grimaced slightly but continued to drink. Harry did the same and grimaced like Draco. He wondered what they were doing, two thirteen year olds sitting in a place like this drinking coffee of all things. They both looked up at each other’s faces. When they saw the similar grimaces, their lips parted and both laughed.

They ignored the looks from others as they smiled at each other. “Three Broomsticks?” Harry asked.

“Three Broomsticks,” Draco nodded. They both got up and Draco paid Madam Puddifoot before both left, arm in arm. They quickly made their way to the Three Broomsticks and got into a comfortable booth. Harry offered to get butterbeer, and got up to get two bottles.

As he walked back he smiled at Draco and said, “This is better,” as he sat down and gave Draco his bottle.

“Loads,” Draco agreed. “Remind me never again to go in there.”

“Yup,” Harry said. They both took a sip of their butterbeer and looked at each other. “So, what were we talking about back there?”

“Parkinson,” Draco said.

“Right,” Harry frowned. “Do you think she is going to be a problem?”

“Most likely,” Draco said. “The girl went and gave the photo to my father, who might have thrust our relationship in your dad’s face.”

“Why would he do that?” Harry asked.

“To get one over your dad of course,” Draco said. “You should hear how much he complains about your dad. The hero Auror who survived the Dark Lord’s attack, no wonder the Minister ask him for advice now and then. My father hates that.”

“He wants the Minister for himself,” Harry guessed. Draco nodded. “But that isn’t possible with my dad being there. Him knowing about us… it could be a distraction.”

“Yes,” Draco nodded, both boys frowning. “But knowing your dad, there might be a chance that he’ll accept us.”

“Maybe,” Harry said. “But first… he needs to know about me being gay. How about your mum? How will she react?”

“My mother?” Draco scoffed. “She’ll agree with my father. Always does.”

“Ohh…” Harry said. He thought of something to say, and looked at Draco. “You know, I’ve just got a bunch of things from Zonko’s.

“And?”

“Well… let’s say if Parkinson is going to be such a pain,” Harry began. “I can always, you know, give you some of the jokes to pull on Parkinson.”

Draco looked at Harry for a moment and a smirk appeared before he laughed. “Harry Potter, you devilish boy! I love it!”

Harry blushed and bit his lip. Draco leaned over and kissed Harry’s cheek. “Who know you had such a rule-breaking attitude?”

“Have you met my dad?” Harry said despite his blush. Draco laughed, Harry joining in shortly. Their moods lightened, their conversations moved towards more common-place topics, both boys talking about which House will win the Quidditch Cup, and who will be in the World Cup during the summer.

 

James Potter burst into his office, outraged, excited, shameful, and a collection of conflicting emotions that smashed against each other, using his body as the warzone as he twitched and walked agitated. He could feel a cold sweat, and his mind was in pain, as if he was about to collapse or break down at any moment. “Our son, gay!” He yelled. “GAY!”

He looked at the wall and noticed that his father’s and mother’s portraits were empty. Relieved and angry at the same time, James ran to his desk to the picture of Lily. “Lily, our Harry, our baby is gay! This is—This is”—he tried to say amazing, or something positive, but instead—“awful! Terrible Lily! Harry can’t be gay, he just can’t!”

His looked up and his eyes fell upon the empty portraits, mocking him with their silence. His eyes narrowed, all his conflicting emotions burning into rage. “Isn’t that right? Isn’t it father? Mother? After all, that is what you two said when—“ he caught himself and shook his head, the uncharacteristic rage leaving him. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

James fell into his chair and stared at his picture of Lily sadly. He missed his wife every day, but today he felt absolutely depressed without her.  “Lily,” he said his voice low and dripping with sadness and exhaustion, “what are we going to do? Our baby is gay, and I don’t know what to do. … He can get in so much trouble. … I need your help Lily, I really do.”

He looked down at his desk and sighed. He opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of parchment. Placing it on the desk he did nothing but stare at it, his mind spiraling as two opposite strong ideas fought. His hand hovered towards his quill and, with great effort, dipped it into the ink. He brought it out and let it hover over the bottle as he tried and think of his words carefully. One idea won and he finally brought the quill to the parchment.

_Dear Sirius and Remus_

He stopped. Putting the quill in the ink bottle he stared at the page, lost of words. He didn’t know how long he stared at the page, but with a sigh of defeat he said, “What am I doing?” and opened a separate drawer. Instead of crumpling up the page, he just dropped it into the drawer and closed it.

He put the quill and ink bottle away and stood up from the desk, needing to see Snuffles.

 

Ron and Blaise made their way immediately towards Zonko’s. Draco and Harry just left for wherever it was that they were heading, and the two waited an awkward silent five minutes before heading down the hill. Ron looked at Blaise and kept his thoughts to himself. How was he supposed to talk to the Slytherin!? Why is he even hanging out with Zabini? He’s a Slytherin!

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Blaise beat him to it, “Is this weird? Us hanging out?” he asked.

“What you mean?” Ron asked, trying to act as if he didn’t notice the weirdness.

Blaise chuckled and said, “Isn’t it obvious Weasley—Ron, I’m a Slytherin and you’re a Gryffindor. We’re supposed to be at each other’s throats.”

“Yeah well….” Ron said, trying not to seem awkward or standoffish. “You’re not like other Slytherins…are you?”

Blaise looked at Ron. Ron felt as if he had said something horrible, but Blaise just laughed. “Come on, let’s go to Zonko’s.”

They did and as soon as they walked inside, Ron started to feel more at ease. The shop was still crowded and Ron’s shoulders loosened as he and Blaise went deep into the shop. “So I’ve been thinking of getting back at Flint and Parkinson,” Blaise began.

“Why?”

“Well I don’t know if Draco told Harry this already, but Parkinson did something very bad,” Blaise began as they walked down an aisle, Blaise looking at rows upon rows of pranks.

“What did she do?” Ron asked.

“When Harry and Draco kissed, she took a picture of both of them,” Blaise said.

“She didn’t!”

Blaise nodded,” Draco was angry when he found out. He yelled at the girl, but the other Slytherins went to her aid. So, this is more to show what happens when you mess with my friends.”

“Friends?” Ron asked as Blaise took down a box. “What you mean friends?”

“Harry of course,” Blaise chuckled, “as well as Draco. Come on, don’t you want to get revenge against the Slytherins for pulling a stunt like that?”

“Well, yeah,” Ron said.

“Then hold these Weasley,” Blaise said as he gave Ron small boxes to hold.

Ron looked around and pointed, “You can never do wrong with Dungbombs,” he said.

“That’s more like it,” Blaise smiled as he got a couple of packages of Dungbombs. Ron looked at Blaise for a bit before sharing a similar smile, the small influence from the twins coming out in him.

The two boys walked around the shop, Blaise taking any prank, joke, or object that caught his interest. Ron nodded and listened to Blaise as he talked about the pranks, filling in his opinion and what he knew from the twins’ expertise. When they gathered more than they can carry, Blaise brought Ron towards the end of the shop and paid for everything. Afterwards, the two walked out, they looked around Hogsmeade a bit, wondering where to go next.

“You know, you can talk to me,” Blaise said. “If Harry can befriend me, I’m sure you can.”

“Just don’t know what to talk ‘bout,” Ron mumbled. Blaise still heard him and nodded. “Alright,” he said, “how about the Quidditch Cup? Who you think is going to win?”

“The Irish of course,” Ron scoffed. “Have you read about their match against the Spanish? Beat them in two hours!”

“Yeah, but I think the Bulgarians have a chance. Have you seen their Seeker?” Blaise asked. “He’s amazing on a broom.”

“He is,” Ron said begrudgingly, nodding. “He’s one of the best Seekers I’ve ever known.”

“Exactly! And he’s so fast, and have complete control of his broomstick. There’s no way Bulgaria’s going to lose with him!” Blaise said.

“The Irish is still going to give him a fight,” Ron said.

“True,” Blaise smirked. “But a fight that they’ll lose. Guys like the Bulgarian Seeker… they get what they want. And if he wants to win, then he’ll win.”

Ron scoffed and looked at Blaise, “What? You going to tell me that you’re like that too?”

“Maybe,” Blaise smirked. “If there’s a guy that I want, he’s already mine.”

“Didn’t get Harry,” Ron said.

Blaise shrugged and looked at him. “It isn’t Harry who I want Ron. Besides, I got him, we’re friends.”

“Oh,” Ron said, a flustered look on his face. He gave Blaise a weird look as he looked around. “Well err…”

“Besides,” Blaise said, continuing as if he did not see Ron’s flustered, embarrassed look, “I’m sure that a guy like him must be surrounded by things he want.”

“Yeah, think of it,” Ron said, getting over his fluster. “Betcha he could get any girl he wants.”

“Or boy,” Blaise said. “A guy looking like him, could be bi.”

“What?”

“Means liking both guys and girls,” Blaise said. “Look at us, imagine if we were one body.”

“I don’t,” Ron said.

“Well, imagine a guy who’s like us then,” Blaise chuckled, taking a small step closer to Ron. “He’ll like boys like I do, and girls like you do. That could be the Bulgarian seeker. Would be better if you think of it, don’t have to limit yourself.”

“Still weird,” Ron said with a scrunched up nose. “Why would any boy want to kiss a boy? I mean, yeah Harry and George likes it, but I don’t get it.”

Blaise smiled and shook his head. “Sounds like something you should ask your brother, but I’ll try and answer. We just like the looks and feelings of boys rather than girls. They’re too… squishy for me.”

“Alright… I think,” Ron said. “But how would that help Krum win?”

“Well, who knows, he might be having a bout with a girl and guy the night before and that’ll keep him focus and in the mood for the match,” Blaise laughed.

Ron looked at him before laughing as well. Their conversations turned towards talking about the teams’ abilities as they walked down Hogsmeade, deciding to go into the Three Broomsticks. As they entered, Ron looked and saw Harry sitting down with Draco. He pointed them at Blaise, but Blaise shook his head. “Let’s leave them be,” he said as they walked towards an empty booth.

Ron agreed as they sat down and watched as Blaise went to get them both a drink. When Blaise returned, and gave Ron his drink. “Here you go, fresh from Madam Rosmerta,” he said. Ron accepted it and looked at Blaise. There was a strange thought in his mind, for some reason, he noticed how close he and Blaise was, but he didn’t mind it. He guessed to himself that it was just him and Blaise getting along. They continued to talk, Ron founding himself truly enjoying himself as they talked about the jokes they’ve brought in Zonko’s and how Blaise planned to use it.

Ron found himself losing himself in their conversations, going from pranks back to Quidditch, to even their opinions on random people and things. He was very pleased to find out that Blaise was deeply annoyed by most of the Slytherins, and that he was secretly hoping that they would lose the House Cup. “They have no chance now that Harry has a Firebolt,” Ron told Blaise after he admitted his hope. Ron didn’t notice the time passing, and the next time he looked around, he noticed that it was nearly time to return to Hogwarts.

Both boys were surprised to see that time past so quickly and made their way back towards the entrance of Hogsmeade. They returned to Hogwarts together, smiling like quick friends as they entered the entrance hall. After dinner, Ron returned to Gryffindor Tower, he quickly looked for Harry. “It’s weird, ya know,” he began. “I thought Slytherins were all slimy prats, but Blaise seems to be alright.”

“I could tell,” Harry chuckled. “Draco and I saw you two in the Three Broomsticks. You two were talking like old friends.”

“It’s weird, it feels like I’m talking to you when talking to him,” Ron shrugged. He yawned and said, “Anyways, I’m bushed.”

“Right, night,” Harry said. Ron nodded and changed for bed. Harry went to his bed as well, but instead of going to bed, Harry pulled out the Marauders’ Map. He opened the map and began studying it, losing himself as he watched the named dots move around the castle. Professor Dumbledore was pacing around in his office, as Filch and Mrs. Norris was walking down a corridor on the fourth floor. He looked at Professor Lupin-Black’s office and gasped when he saw two dots in there. There was Professor Lupin-Black’s name, as well as a dot named _Sirius Black_. Harry figured it must have been Professor Lupin-Black’s husband visiting, and blushed as he felt like he was invading something private.

So instead, Harry looked over at the Slytherin Dungeon and watched Draco’s dot. It rested in the common room, and Harry watched as several dots moved towards Draco. A few names recognized. _Marcus_ _Flint, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson_ , the dots seemed to gang up on Draco, but a few moved away. Harry watched as Draco’s dot moved towards the four that remained, and Harry could almost envision his boyfriend arguing, yelling at them for whatever fault the four have done. He watched as the dots continued to stay still, until Flint, Crabbe, and Goyle left leaving only Parkinson. Five minutes later, Parkinson’s dot left quickly, with Draco returning to his original position.

Harry stopped watching Draco and continued to just roam around the map, exploring Hogwarts and its inhabitants unaware. He watched for hours upon hours, watching Sirius Black’s dot disappearing through what Harry supposed was a fireplace, and all the older students turning in for the night. It was then that he saw it, a strange dot scurrying around the empty halls. His entire focus turned onto that dot as he read the name, perplexed and confused at it’s existence. _Peter Pettigrew_ was written in the same small handwriting as all names on the map.

Confused, and curious Harry got out of bed and grabbed his wand. There was no way, he could be here, Harry thought. His dad told him that Pettigrew was dead, that he was the one who betrayed them to Voldemort. He quietly left the boys’ dormitory and kept the map open as he slipped out of the Gryffindor Tower. Harry’s eyes stuck to the map as he made his way down from the seventh floor, hiding and avoiding the prefects and Filch as he walked down the stairs.

When he reached the fourth floor, he looked at the map again to see that Pettigrew was still there. A small surge of anxiety and anger grew in him as he started chasing the dot, remembering everything his father had told him about the man. He pulled out his wand and muttered, “ _Lumos!_ ” the tip of his wand lighting up as he looked around. He glanced down at the map again and turned the corner, the dot reading _Harry Potter_ coming closer and closer towards Peter Pettigrew. He stopped when the Pettigrew’s dot stopped and started to make a beeline towards him. Harry kept his wand up and stared into the darkness, stealing himself, readying as their dots came closer. The distance between them shortened, and yet Harry still saw nothing, scared he looked down at the map and saw as the two dots overlapped each other before Pettigrew seemingly walked past him. Harry whipped around, but saw nothing. The corridors were empty, with only the occasional snore or grumble from the portraits. Harry, in utter shock, watched as the dot continued to scurry down the corridor and turn a corner.

Harry gained his senses quick enough to see that Snape was walking towards him quickly. He pointed his still lit wand at the map and whispered, “ _Mischief Managed._ ” The map began to disappear as Harry said, “ _Nox!_ ” and plunged the corridor into darkness.

Harry was surrounded by darkness for only a moment as a light appeared, followed by Severus Snape, holding up his wand. “Well… it seems Mr. Potter believes himself above curfew,” Snape drawled as he stared down at Harry. He noticed the map and said, “What are you holding?”

“Nothing,” Harry said quickly, trying to pocket it.

“Give it here Potter, now,” Snape said, holding out his hand.

“It’s just rubbish,” Harry said.

“Now Mr. Potter,” Snape repeated. Harry reluctantly gave Snape the map. Snape looked over the old parchment and pointed his wand at it. “Reveal your secrets.”

As though an invisible hand were writing upon it, words appeared on the smooth surface of the map.

_“Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business!”_

Snape froze. Harry stared, dumbstruck, at the message. But the map didn’t stop there. More writing was appearing beneath the first.

_“Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.”_

It would have been funny if the situation hadn’t been so serious, Snape still standing over Harry threateningly.

_“Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor.”_

Harry closed his eyes in horror. When he’d opened them, the map had had its last word.

_“Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.”_

Harry waited for the blow to fall.

“So…” Snape said softly. “We’ll see about this. …”

He grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him down the corridor. They turned, and Snape dragged Harry towards Professor Lupin-Black’s office. “Lupin!” he called out.

Professor Lupin-Black walked into his office. “You called, Severus?” he said mildly.

“I certainly did,” Snape said, his face contorted with fury as he strode towards Lupin-Black’s desk. “I have found Potter out of bed after curfew, and he was carrying this.”

Snape placed the parchment on the desk, the words of Messrs. Moody, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were still shining. An odd, closed expression appeared on Lupin-Black’s face.

“Well?” Snape said.

Lupin-Black continued to stare at the map. Harry had the impression that he was doing some very quick thinking.

“Well?” Snape said again. “This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?”

Lupin-Black looked up and, by the merest half-glance in Harry’s direction, warned him not to interrupt.

“Full of Dark Magic?” he repeated mildly. “Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop—“

“Indeed?” Snape said. His jaw had gone rigid with anger. “You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don’t think it more likely that he got it _directly from the manufacturers?_ ”

Harry didn’t understand what Snape was talking about. Nor, apparently, did Lupin-Black.

“You mean, by Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?” he said. “Harry, do you know any of these men?”

“No,” Harry said.

“You see, Severus?” Lupin-Black said, turning back to Snape. “It looks like a Zonko product to me. Most likely got it from one of his friends while they were off in Hogsmeade. So, how about I will take this, shall I?” He folded the map and tucked it inside his robes. “I will escort Harry back to Gryffindor Tower, Severus. Good night.”

Snape gave both of them a sharp look before leaving. Harry turned to Professor Lupin-Black and said, “Professor—“

“I don’t want to hear explanations,” Lupin said shortly. “I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it’s a map,” he said as Harry looked amazed. “I don’t want to know how it fell into your possession. However, I cannot let you have it back, Harry.”

“Professor, there’s something you should know about that map,” Harry said. “It’s supposed to show every living person in Hogwarts and where they are, but there must be something wrong with it because earlier tonight it showed someone who shouldn’t be here, someone who’s dead.”

“Oh, really?” Lupin-Black asked. “Who?”

“Peter Pettigrew,” Harry said. “But he died… twelve years ago. Dad said all they found was his finger.”

Professor Lupin-Black looked at Harry, an unreadable expression on his face. He took out the map again and looked at Harry. “I believe you should head back to your dormitory Harry. It is past your bedtime.”

“Yes Professor,” Harry said slightly confused at Professor Lupin-Black’s changed demeanor. He turned and left the office, saddened that he had to give up the Marauder’s Map, but mostly curious and feeling lost at both Snape’s and Lupin-Black’s reactions.

The next morning, however, his confusion and curiosity all were swept away when Hermione walked towards him and Ron during breakfast. She was holding a letter in her hands and her lip was trembling. “I just thought you ought to know …Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to be executed.”

“He—he sent me this,” Hermione said, holding out the letter.

Harry took it. The parchment was damp, and enormous teardrops had smudged the ink so badly in places that it was very difficult to read.

**_Dear Hermione,_ **

****_We lost. I’m allowed to bring him back to Hogwarts._  
Execution date to be fixed.  
Beaky has enjoyed London.  
I won’t forget all the help you gave us.

**_Hagrid_ **

“They can’t do this,” Harry said. “They can’t. Buckbeak isn’t dangerous.”

“Malfoy’s dad’s frightened the Committee into it,” Hermione said, wiping her eyes. “You know what he’s like. They’re a bunch of doddery old fools, and they were scared. There’ll be an appeal, though, there always is. Only I can’t see any hope. …Nothing will have changed.”

“Yeah it will,” Ron said fiercely. “You won’t have to do all the work alone this time, Hermione. I’ll help.”

“Oh, Ron!”

Hermione flung her arms around Ron’s neck and broke down completely. Ron, looking quite terrified, patted her very awkwardly on the top of the head. Finally, Hermione drew away.

“Ron, I’m really, really, really sorry about Scabbers … ,” she sobbed.

“Oh—well—he was old,” Ron said, looking thoroughly relieved that she had let go of him. “And he was a bit useless. You never know, Mum and Dad might get me an owl now!”

The safety measures imposed on the students made it impossible for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to go and visit Hagrid in the evenings. On their first attempt, Draco caught them and seemed to stand a bit awkwardly as Hermione gave him a sharp look. “I heard… about the hippogriff,” he said. “I’ve tried telling my father to drop the charges, multiple times,” he spoke mostly to Hermione, but his eyes were on Harry, as if he did not want to see Ron’s and Hermione’s reactions. “I’ve even mailed the Minister a few times.”

Harry looked anxiously between Draco and Hermione, dreading Hermione’s reaction. The Gryffindor remained emotionless as she considered Malfoy’s apology. She looked at Draco and said, “Thanks,” a bit too bitterly.

Harry and Draco frowned at that, but Harry assumed that unlike him, Draco still needs to prove that he can, and did, change for the better. Draco nodded and offered a small smile. “I heard that there is an appeal. If you need any help—“

“No thank you Malfoy, we have this,” Hermione said. Draco nodded again and looked at Harry. “I’ll… I’ll see you later Harry. Weasley, nice to see you again.”

“Malfoy.”

Draco left and Hermione turned towards Harry and Ron. “When did you become so friendly with Malfoy?” she half-accused.

“I’m not, but if he’s dating Harry… we should at least be civil, right?” Ron said.

“I guess…”

“He’s trying to change,” Harry said. “He’s still a bit of a prat, but he’s doing his best to not be a prat… at least not to us Gryffindors. And he and Blaise told me that he never said ‘mudblood’ ever since I told him to stop. Instead, he’s using muggleborn.”

Hermione looked at Harry, her arms crossed. “I guess that’s a start,” she said. “But I have to see his progress myself before I even consider forgiving him.”

“Alright,” Harry agreed.

“Just do me one thing Harry,” Hermione said, her voice and body going hostile as she seemed to remember Draco’s father. “You better beat him at the Quidditch Final. I don’t want another win Malfoy can hold over Hagrid.”


	14. The Quidditch Final

Chapter 14

The Quidditch Final

Harry, Ron, and Hermione just climbed up into Divination class. Hermione was fretting that she missed Charms class, even though Harry couldn’t see how as she was right behind him and Ron as they entered.

“I thought we weren’t starting crystal balls until next term,” Ron muttered, casting a wary eye around for Professor Trelawney, in case she was lurking nearby. The small tables each held a crystal ball full of pearly white mist.

“Don’t complain, this means we’ve finished palmistry,” Harry muttered back. “I was getting sick of her flinching every time she looked at my hands.”

“Good day to you!” Professor Trelawney said as she made her usual dramatic entrance out of the shadows. “I have decided to introduce the crystal ball a little earlier than I had planned,” she sat down with her back to the fire. “The fates have informed me that your examination in June will concern the Orb, and I am anxious to give you sufficient practice.”

Hermione snorted.

“Of course the fates informed her, she makes the exam!” she said, not troubling to keep her voice low. Harry and Ron chocked back laughs. Professor Trelawney continued as if she did not heard Hermione’s remark.

“Crystal gazing is a particually refined art,” she said dreamily. “I do not expect any of you to See when first you peer into the Orb’s infinite depths. We shall start by practicing relaxing the conscious mind and external eyes”—Ron began to snigger uncontrollably and had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stifle the noise—“so as to clear the Inner Eye and the superconscious. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of you will See before the end of the class.”

Harry felt ridiculous staring at the white fog in the orb. He and Ron stared blankly until Hermione hissed, “This is such a waste of time. I could be practicing something useful. I could be catching up on Cheering Charms—“

Professor Trelawney rustled past. “Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shadowy portents within the Orbs?” she muttered over the clinking of her bangles.

“I don’t need help,” Ron whispered. “It’s obvious what this means. There’s going to be loads of fog tonight.”

Both Harry and Hermione burst out laughing.

“Now, really!” Professor Trelawney said as everyone’s heads turned in their direction. Parvati and Lavender were looking scandalized. “You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!” She approached their table and peered into their crystal ball. Harry felt his heart sinking. He knew what was coming.

“There is something here!” Professor Trelawney whispered. “Something moving… but what is it?”

“Let me guess, it’s the Grim,” Hermione said sarcastically.

Professor Trelawney raised her enormous eyes to Hermione’s face. Parvati whispered something to Lavender, and they both glared at Hermione too. Professor Trelawney stood up, surverying Hermione with unmistakable anger.

“I am sorry to say that from the moment you have arrived in this class, my dear, it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don’t remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane.”

There was a moment’s silence. Then—

“Fine!” Hermione said suddenly, getting up and cramming her book back into ther bag. “Fine!” she repeated, swinging the bag over her shoulder and knocking the crystal ball off of the table, the glassy orb rolling away from the classroom and down the open trapdoor. “I give up! I’m leaving!”

Hermione followed the orb down the trapdoor to the class’s stunned amazement. It took a few minutes for the class to comprehend what just happened. Then, Lavender shrieked suddenly. “Ooooo, Professor Trelawney, I’ve just remembered! You saw her leaving didn’t you? Didn’t you Professor? _‘Around_ _Easter, one of our number will leave us forever!’_ You said it ages ago Professor!”

 

James Potter was fretting over the house. Harry would be coming home for one day during the Easter holidays, he told his dad in a letter that they needed to talk. James already knew that Harry would be coming out to him, but he did not know how to react or respond to it. His son, gay, loving a boy, James could wrap his mind around it, but for some reason he couldn’t comprehend or understand no matter how much he wanted to. He looked again at the empty portraits of his mother and father. It has been weeks since they visited him, and James was half-relieved that they were away. He knew that if he saw them, there would be a shouting match. “Even when they’re dead they haunt me,” James muttered to himself. He looked at the calander on his desk. Three days. Three days until Harry visits. He has three days to mentally prepare himself.

 

The Easter holidays were not exactly relaxing. The third years had never had so much homework. Neville Longbottom seemed close to a nervous breakdown, and he wasn’t the only one.

“Call this a holiday!” Seamus roared at the common room one afternoon. “The exams are ages away, what’re they playing at?”

But nobody had as much to do as Hermione. Even without Divination, she was taking more subjects than anybody else. She was usually last to leave the common room at night, first to arrive at the library the next morning; she had shadows like Lupin-Black’s under her eyes, and seemed constantly close to tears.

Ron had taken over responsibility for Buckbeak’s appeal, Draco helping any way he could without Hagrid knowing. While Ron and Draco were on a shaky neutral ground, Draco and Harry were both sure that Hagrid, though kind-hearted, would not care so much for the Malfoy. When Ron wasn’t doing his own work, he was poring over enormously thick volumes with names like _The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology_. Draco meanwhile continued to write letters, looking over similar books as Ron.

Harry meanwhile had to fit in his homework around Quidditch practice every day, not to mention endless discussions of tactics with Wood. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays. Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points. This meant (as Wood constantly reminded his team) that they needed to win the match by more than that amount to with the Cup. It also meant that the burden of winning fell largely on Harry, because capturing the Snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points.

The only saving grace was that Harry was going home for one day, but he didn’t feel completely relieved to come home. He somehow knew that his father have seen the photo of him and Draco kissing. He also told his father that there was something very important he needed to tell him, so when Harry flooed home for the day, he decided that the best thing was the get it over with.

He found his dad in the kitchen making lunch. “Dad, I’m home,” he said. James turned around and smiled. “Harry! Come here.”

James pulled his father into a strained hug. Harry relaxed a bit in his dad’s arms and looked around. “Where’s Snuffles?” he asked.

“Walking around somewhere,” James shrugged. “Can you do me a favor and get me the cat food in the cupboard?”

Harry nodded and walked towards the cupboard, thankful for the small distraction. He pulled it out and opened it, pouring the food into Snuffle’s bowl. “So, how’s Quidditch going?” James asked.

“Good,” Harry said. “The final is the Saturday after Easter break. Us against Slytherin. Slytherin’s up two hundred points so I have to catch the Snitch only when we’re over fifty points, as Wood told us constantly.”

James chuckled and called for their cat. Snuffles bounced into the room, going immediately for his lunch. “Well, good luck I’m sure you’ll beat them perfectly. Two hundred and ten to zero,” James chuckled. Harry nodded and watched Snuffles eat. He looked at his dad and sighed. “Dad, we need to talk.”

James sighed and nodded, looking down at his son. “I know. … Come on, let’s go sit down somewhere more comfortable.”

They walked into the living room and they each sat down in an armchair. “Dad,” Harry began awkwardly. “There’s um something I need to tell you. I err know that there’s a picture taken of me… and it’s … it’s…” –Harry took another breath, his cheeks flustering as he stumbled over his words. “True,” he finally said. “I’m a poof. I’m gay and dating Draco Malfoy.”

Harry waited for his father’s reactions. His breath shortened and heart quickened as he looked at his father, waiting anxiously for his reaction. The room’s atmosphere was tense, and the longer the silence, the more Harry dreaded his dad’s reactions. “Dad,” he said questionably after the silence became too much for him. “Dad say something.”

“It’s true…” James said quietly to himself. “A fag in the family. …” Harry looked up at this word, his heart breaking. He opened his mouth to say something, but James beaten him to it. “I think… I think you should go back to Hogwarts,” he said. “Good luck with the final. I’ll see you during the summer.”

Heartbroken, Harry nodded and stood up, walking stiffly towards the fireplace and taking a fistful of floo powder.

When Harry left, James returned to his office. Needing to write a letter. He pulled out the letter and wrote quickly under the dears,

_I know it’s been a long time. There is something I need to tell you. I need your help._

_James_

He went to get his owl the Ministry have given all workers and tied the letter to him. He watched as the owl flew out of the window and returned to his office, where he saw his mother and father. “Oh, there you are,” he said spitefully.

“You dare talk to your parents like that James?” his father said.

“You’re not my parents, they’re dead. You’re just portraits,” James sighed. “But you act and think exactly like them.”

“What does that mean?” Fleamont asked, looking down at his son. “What you grumbling about now James?”

James glared at both of them. “Harry came,” he began.

“And you didn’t tell us?” Euphemia said. “It has been ages since I’ve seen my grandson. What did he say? Did he find a girlfriend?”

“No mother, not exactly,” James said. “Harry came out to me just now. … He’s gay.”

Both his mother and father shared a look, both looking disappointed. Euphemia sighed and looked at her husband. “Told you there would be a fag in the family,” she said.

“I know, just thought it wouldn’t be our grandson!”

“Better than our son.”

James growled angrily “Enough!” he roared at them. He took out his wand and pointed it at the two portraits. He breathed heavily, staring at the portraits as his parents simply watched him. Angrily he pocketed his wand and said, “Go away. I don’t want to see you two for a long time.”

“Hmpt, and I thought we got all past this,” Fleamont grumbled as he walked into his wife’s portrait. He helped her up and the two walked away. James glared angrily at the two empty portraits before taking his father’s off the wall. He kicked open the doors as he went down to the basement, Snuffles following him curiously. At the basement, James just leaned the portrait against the wall before doing the same with his mother’s.

When he returned to his office he looked at the bare wall. He was still angry, yet he also felt a bit more relieved as he stared at the blank wall, before the anger returned. Anger towards his parents, and himself. How dare he treat Harry like that, James needed to do something, anything to make up for it. But he didn’t know how.

 

When Harry returned to Hogwarts, he still felt heartbroken. Harry didn’t know how he finished his homework and completed practice, but before he knew it the Quidditch Final was right around the corner.

Draco was severely distressed over the case’s lost. He and Harry were sitting close together in the courtyard. It was the day before the Quidditch final. “I should’ve done something,” he complained.

“It’s not your fault Draco,” Harry said. “You did your best. It’s your father’s fault for not listening.”

“My father…” Draco repeated. He looked towards Harry and frowned, “You know what my father did? He sent me a letter.”

“What did it say?” Harry asked, leaning on Draco’s shoulder. Draco wrapped an arm around Harry and said, “Basically that I was being a shame to the family. He knows about our kiss, and he is truly and deeply ashamed of it. He… he wants us to break up immediately.”

“Never,” Harry said.

Draco nodded. “Don’t worry Harry, I’m never going to break up with you.”

Harry looked at Draco and smiled. “I told my dad,” he said. “About us.”

“How did he take it?” Draco asked.

“Not good,” Harry frowned. “He said… that there was a fag in the family after all.”

“Oh Harry!” Draco said. He pulled Harry closer and kissed him fully on the lips. “How do you feel Harry?”

“Fine… hey, I have an idea,” Harry said. “Something that’ll cheer us both up.”

“What is it?” Draco asked as Harry stood up, pulling Draco up with him.

“You’ll see,” Harry said with a playful smirk. He needed a distraction from his father, as well as Draco, so this was the best he could think of. They walked down the empty corridor and up towards the seventh floor. “I’ve been in your common room, it’s only fair,” he said as Harry saw the realization on Draco’s face.

They went up to the Seventh Floor and Harry told Draco to stay out of the Fat Lady’s sight as he told her the password. As her portrait swung open Draco caught up with Harry and they both walked inside. “Everyone should be out,” he said as they entered the empty common room. Draco looked around and scoffed. “Everything is so red and gold,” he said.

“Compared to your green?” Harry laughed. He pulled Draco towards the spiral staircase that led towards the boy’s dormitory. When they reached the fourth year boys, he opened slowly and poked his head in. “Nobody here,” he said as he opened the door fully.

They walked into the dormitory and Draco closed the door behind him. He locked it and turned to Harry, “What’s going on Harry?”

“Just sit down and watch,” Harry said, pointing to Ron’s bed next to his. Draco did and watched curiously as Harry sat on his bed.

Harry shouldered his cloak off and laid it on his bed before starting to unbutton his shirt. “Just sit and watch… I want to do this for you,” he said as he unbuttoned his last button, reveal his smooth, skinny body to Draco for the first time. Draco watched with bated breath, his pants slowly tightening as Harry slipped out of his shirt and kicked his shoes off, pulling his pants and boxers down with one go. He stood there, naked and completely hairless. Before Draco got time to appreciate Harry standing in front of him, Harry sat down on his bed and laid on his back. Harry began touching himself, his eyes closing as his fingers brushed against his sensitive nipples. His back arched as his fingers danced across his nipples, squeezing and pulling as they hardened, becoming plump. Draco felt the need to shift his pants. He watched as Harry’s small cock began to harden, standing in full attention for Draco.

Harry’s hand traveled further down his body before he reached his dick. Instead of jerking off as Draco thought he would, however, Harry grunted and lifted his legs in the air, bending them towards his body and giving Draco perfect access to his virgin hole. Harry hooked one arm expertly around his legs and held them in place. Draco watched transfixed as Harry took his other hand and brought it to his hole. Harry circled his hairless, smooth, pink hole with a finger before thrusting it in, the digit penetrating his body. Harry moaned and Draco’s eyes widened as Harry started going faster and faster, before pulling the finger out and licking it. He made the finger slick with his spit and started again, thrusting himself over and over, making sure Draco can see all.

Draco couldn’t resist the temptation anymore, and pulled down his pants, revealing his hard member. Draco gripped his cock and started pulling, tugging, masterbating to Harry’s thrusts. Harry too gripped his dick and they didn’t last long before they both started coming, Draco in his hand, and Harry’s flying to his chest. Flustered and out of breath, both boys cleaned up before grinning at each other. “Better?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, loads. Were you always so showing?” Draco asked.

“Only for you,” Harry said. He looked around and said, “Come on, we better get out of here before anyone sees us. They’ll think I’m conspiring with the enemy or something.”

Draco chuckled and followed Harry out of the Gryffindor common room. They walked in comfortable silence until they reached the fifth floor. Draco turned to Harry and kissed him. “Good luck tomorrow Harry. May the best Seeker win.”

“I plan to,” Harry smirked. He kissed Draco and they went their separate ways, knowing that tomorrow they’ll be enemies again, if only in the field.

The grounds were still and quiet the next morning. No breath of wind disturbed the treetops in the Forbidden Forest; the Whomping Willow was motionless and innocent-looking. It looked as though the conditions for the match would be perfect. The Gryffindor team walked out onto the field to a tidal wave of noise. Three-quarters of the crowd was wearing scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them, or branding banners that cheered for Gryffindor.

Harry and Draco gave each other knowing smirks as they both walked onto the field, Lee Jordan yelling their names. Madam Hooch called for them all to mount their brooms after Wood and Flint shook hands, Harry noticed that they were both glaring at each other with a hatred he had never saw before.

The sound of Madam Hooch’s whistle blew Harry out of his thoughts as he and the other thirteen plays flew into the air. Harry felt his hair fly back off his forehead; his nerves left him in the thrill of the flight; he glanced around, saw Draco on his tail, and sped off in search of the Snitch.

“And it’s Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinner of Gryffinodr with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Alicia! Argh, no—Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing up the field—WHAM!—nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it’s caught by Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on Angelina—nice swerve around Montague— _duck Angelia, that’s a Bludger!_ —SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR! TAKE THAT YOU DIRTY—“

“JORDAN!” Professor McGonagall yelled.

Angelina punched the air as she soared around the end of the field; the sea of scarlet below was scraming in delight—

“OUCH!”

Angelina was nearly thrown from her broom as Marcus Flint went smashing into her.

“Sorry!” Flint said as the crowd below booed. “Sorry, didn’t see her!”

A moment later, George Weasley chucked his Beater’s club at the back of Flint’s head. Flint’s nose smashed into the handle of his broom and began to bleed.

“That will do!” Madam Hooch shrieked, zooming between them. “Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to _their_ Chaser!”

“Come off it, Miss!” George howled, but Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Alicia flew forward to take the penalty.

“Come on Alicia!” Lee yelled into the silence that had descended on the crowd. “YES! SHE’S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry turned the Firebolt sharply to watch Flint, still bleeding freely, fly forward to take the Slytherin penalty. Wood was hovering in front of the Gryffindor goal posts, his jaw clenched and fists tight.

“Course, Wood’s a superb Keeper!” Lee Jordan told the crowd as Flint waited for Madam Hooch’s whistle. “Superb! Very difficult to pass—very difficult indeed—YES! I DON’T BELIEVE IT! HE’S SAVED IT!”

Relieved, Harry zoomed away, gazing around for the Snitch, but still making sure he caught every word of Lee’s commentary.

“Going a bit slow Potter?” Draco called out from behind him. Harry looked around and smirked at Draco.

“You wish Malfoy!” he called out, edging his broom to go faster. The two spend around as their teams continued playing. He and Draco flew around, both looking for the Snitch as Harry tried to shake his boyfriend off. Gryffindor scored again during this chase, leading thirty to zero. Then, after Harry shook Draco off his tail, he finally saw it. The Snitch! He felt a huge jolt of excitement. The Snitch was shimmering at the foot of one of the Gryffindor goal posts—but he mustn’t catch it yet—and if Draco saw it—

Faking a look of sudden concentration, Harry pulled his Firebolt around and sped off towards the Slytherin end, it worked. He saw Draco racing after him, clearly thinking Harry had sen the Snitch there. …

WHOOSH.

One of the Bludgers came streaking past Harry’s right ear, hit by the gigantic Slytherin Beater, Derrick. Then again—

WHOOSH.

The second Bludger grazed Harry’s elbow. The other Beater, Bole, was closing in.

Harry had a fleeting glimpse of Bole and Derrick zooming toward him, clubs raised—

He turned the Firebolt upward at the last second, and Bole and Derrick collided with a sickening crunch. Flint got control of the Quaffle and chucked it hard at Wood, Wood caught it easily but was almost smacked off his broom from the impact, as if Flint was aiming for Wood and not scoring.

It was turning into the diriest game harry had ever played in. Enraged that Gryffindor had taken such an early lead, the Slytherins were rapidly resorting to any means to take the Quaffle. Bole hit Alicia with his club and tried to say he’d thought she was a Bludger. George Weasley elbowed Bole in the face in retaliation. Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties, and Wood pulled off another spectacular save, making the score forty-zero to Gryffindor. The Snitch disappeared again. Draco was still keeping close to Harry as he soared over the match, looking around for it—once Gryffindor was fifty points ahead—

Katie scored. Fifty-zero. Harry, free to get the Snitch, turned all his attention to finding it. Then Angelina scored soon afterwards. The Gryffindor crowd below was screaming itself hoarse—Gryffindor was sixty points in the lead, and if Harry caught the Snitch now, the Cup was theirs. Draco was right on Harry’s trail as they shot towards the stands, then there was a quick golden glimmer and both boys smirked. Draco dived first, with Harry following.

“Go! Go! Go!” Harry urged his broom. He was gaining on Draco—Harry flattened himself to the broom handle as Bole sent a Bludger at him—he was a Draco’s ankles—he was level—Harry threw himself forward, took both hands off his broom. He knocked Draco’s arm out of the way and—

“YES!”

He pulled out of his dive, his hand in the air, and the stadium exploded. Harry soared above the crowd, an odd ringing in his ears. The tiny golden ball was held tight in his fist, beating its wings hopelessly against his fingers.

Then Wood was speeding toward him, half-blinded by tears; he seized Harry around the neck and sobbed unrestrainedly into his shoulder. Harry felt two large thumps as Fred and George hit them; then Angelina’s, Alicia’s and Katie’s voices. Tangled together in a many-armed hug, the Gryffindor team sank, yelling hoarsely, back to earth.

 

“Wood!” Flint yelled out. It was hours after the match, both teams showered and dressed in their regular robes. Oliver Wood and George Weasley were celebrating privately in the courtyard. They both turned to watch the Slytherin march up to them. There was a venomous look upon him as he stormed at them.

“What do you want Flint?” Wood asked, standing in front of George, who also stood.

“What’s mine!” Flint growled. “The cup and Weasley!”

“I’m not a thing you beast!” George screamed. “Besides we won the Cup fair and square, unlike you cheating lot.”

Flint pulled his wand out and aimed it at them. “Say that again,” he warned.

Oliver and George quickly pulled their wands out and trained them on Flint. The three glared at each other. “You’ve already lost the Cup and the boy,” Oliver smirked. “What more you want to lose?”

Flint looked at both boys and snarled as he pocketed his wand. “He was a stupid fuck anyway,” he said. He smirked at Oliver and said, “Enjoy having my second fucks Wood. Least I have that over you.”

And with that, Flint left the couple alone. George and Oliver looked at each other, confused but relieved. “Guess he’s gone for good,” George said.

Oliver nodded and easily lifted the Beater up. “Guess so, now where were we George?”

“I think you were about to put that big thing in my mouth Oliver,” George smirked. Oliver returned the smirk and said, “Right… well, get to it.”


	15. Pasts Fought

Chapter 15

Pasts Fought

James paced nervously around his living room. It has been a week since he sent the letter to Sirius and Remus, and still no reply. Snuffles meowed as he curled around James’ leg, searching for attention. He looked down and bent to pet him. Then, there was a pecking at the window. Confused, yet hopeful, James looked up at the window to see a barn owl waiting outside. He opened the window and let the owl fly into the room. There was a letter attached to its leg, and James unrolled it easily as the owl pecked at a small dish of owl treats. The owl waited, as if for James’ reply, so he sat down and unrolled the letter.

_James_

_It’s been a while hasn’t it? Remus and I were really surprised that you sent this, but alright. We’re coming. Expect us an hour after the owl arrives. If we plan this out right, hehe._

_Sirius_

As soon as James read the letter, he looked up at the owl, a sense of happiness surge in him. That was Sirius’ owl! “An hour,” he said. He figured that Sirius and Remus does not need a reply, but wrote one just in case. It took him five minutes to write one, and tied it to the owl. As soon as the owl left his home, James sat down in one armchair, feeling pleasant, the nervousness overwhelming him again. Then, two minutes later, his fireplace surged into life, green fire flaring from the logs as two grown wizards stepped through. James recognized them immediately as Sirius and Remus brushed the ashes off of their cloaks. “Here we are, right on time,” Sirius smiled as he looked around.

“You’re early,” James couldn’t help but drawl. “Fifty minutes early.”

“But who’s counting?” Sirius grinned, ignoring the awkwardness that fell between the old friends. He looked at James as he got up. “You uhh look good James,” he said.

“So do you,” James nodded. “R-Remus.”

“You wanted to tell us something? That you needed our help?” Remus asked, sounding awkward as he looked around James’ living room.

“Yeah,” James sighed. “Sit-sit, this’ll take awhile.”

Sirius and Remus looked worried as they sat down in a nearby sofa as James sat in his armchair. He looked at his old friends, not knowing where or how to begin. He looked confused, grasping at straws in his head as he thought of the best point to begin. Miraculously, as if sensing his master’s desperation, Snuffles came running in and jumped onto the mantle.

“You got a cat,” Sirius said.

“Yeah… Snuffles,” James said a bit stiffly. Sirius snickered and James looked at him.

“I knew you didn’t forget about us,” Sirius smirked. “See Remus? He named the cat after me.”

“I see,” Remus nodded, he turned his attention back to James and said a bit more softly, “What is it you wanted to tell us?”

“Well… where should I begin?” James sighed. He looked up at his old friends, and stayed quiet, trying to find a place to begin. Sirius and Remus waited patiently, Sirius taking to watch Snuffles as James thought, lost in thoughts. Then, after he was sure he got the jumbled pieces of his memory together, James began to talk.

“This began… with my parents. Mostly my mother. You know how they were always sweet to us right? And that they treated you Sirius, like a second son? Well, as loving as they were… they were also hateful. Not like the snobbish Malfoys or their lot, but still hateful in their own way. I never told you this, but when they learned that you two were umm snogging… mum had some choice words to say about it. They didn’t say anything because you guys are… were my best mates, but still… Anyway, she and dad didn’t like guys… kissing. Or even holding hands. Remember those girls they showed us at our seventh year? Those sisters? That was because they saw you and Remus kissing in our backyard. I’ve locked the portraits in the basement if you want to ask them.

“Anyway… umm something happened in fifth year, well the summer before it. You see, there was this muggle, I forgot their name, I don’t even think it matters. Anyway, this muggle, he was our age, and this was all before me and Lily got together, I remember that he used to roam around. Somehow, he got near the Potter Manor, and pass our Anti-Muggle charms. Maybe he was a Squib, doesn’t matter, but he came to Potter Manor where he, well he caught me practicing magic. I was scared that he was going to scream or something, but instead he was completely amazed. He asked me to perform some more spells, so being the cocky boy I was of course I did, showing off the strongest and hardest spells I knew. He was completely entranced; it was awesome during the time.

“After I showed off, we got to talking, and he kept visiting over and over again. Obviously we made sure not to let my parents know, who knows what would happen if they knew their only son was talking to a strange Muggle/Squib. Probably be nice to him, until they know what we were umm doing. You see, the more he came over, the closer we got. It wasn’t anything serious, God no, we were only fifteen, and nothing serious happens when you’re fifteen. We didn’t do much at all, it was just two blokes hanging out. One showing off his magic, and the other truly awed and inspired by it. It was always on Potter grounds so the Trace never went off. Sometimes he showed me these lame Muggle tricks that I pretend to find amusing, but other than that we just hung around. Then, one day the Squib, I’m pretty sure he was a Squib thinking back on it, maybe he had a Squib parent and a Muggle one, who knows, anyway he just went up to me one day and kissed me. Right on the lips, first one. It was weird, but we both liked it, and again this was before Lily and I and I honestly didn’t felt any of that serious stuff towards the guy, I just liked kissing him. So we started kissing. After we talk, or hung out as I make sticks dance, we would just start randomly kissing.

“But unfortunately, while we were kissing we were usually focusing on the other person that we forget to check that we were alone. One day, he was on top of me and we were kissing, fully clothed Sirius, don’t give me that look! One day we were busy snogging when… mum walked in on us. We were in the garden behind some bushes and mum was taking a walk, but she heard us and came to investigate. When she saw the Squib on top of me, I don’t know if she panicked or was immediately furious, but the next thing I knew he was off of me, and rolling on the ground next to me. There was yelling and shouting, the words ‘poof’ and ‘fag’ was thrown around, as well as calling the boy a muggle. She—she called me a disgrace to the family and told me that dad would definitely hear about this. But before she left she pointed her wand at the boy and wiped away his memories She then told me that if I ever looked for him again I’ll be written out of the Potter family, only heir or not. So I didn’t look for him, and for the rest of the summer every day I heard about how two men snogging is gross, and wrong that it just sunk into me.

“When I met Lily, and we knew about you, I’ve tried my best to keep that stuff from coming back. I told Lily this, and she helped as well, though not a day went by she didn’t tell me to tell you guys—“

“What that you’re gay?”

“Sirius!” Remus hissed, elbowing his husband. James gave them both a flat look before continuing.

“I am not gay Sirius. I’m bisexual, there’s a difference. So yeah, never saw that boy again, not that I care, again nothing serious. But because of what my mum and dad basically treated me, I sort of became a huge prat, and without Lily to help me and the whole You-Know-Who trying to kill our only son… I said some things that I really regret. So… sorry.”

“All’s forgiven!” Sirius smiled immediately. “You really should have told us sooner James, all those years wasted. Why just think our sons might have been best friends by now!”

“You have a son?” James asked, the shock that Sirius easily forgave him overtaking him for only a moment.

“Yeah, of course we do,” Sirius said. “He’s starting Hogwarts next year. Going to be a Gryffindor, I can tell.”

“Anyway, his name is Orion,” Remus said as he stood up to rifle through his pockets. “Pretty sure we have a picture somewhere…”

“Why doesn’t he just meet the real deal?” Sirius asked. “He should be home.”

“No, he should be at your aunt’s, remember?” Remus said as he stopped looking through his pockets. He looked between Sirius and James and smiled at James, “Good to see you again James, we need to talk more, catch up. But I need to go back to Hogwarts.”

“Yeah,” James nodded. He watched as Remus went to his fire and disappeared in the emerald flames. He looked at Sirius and waited for him to talk.

“So, let’s go pick Orion up,” Sirius grinned. “Come on.”

James looked at his friend confused before shrugging. “Let me just make sure Snuffles’ dishes are full,” he said.

Sirius nodded and followed James as he walked into the kitchen. James whistled as he filled Snuffles’ bowl. “He’s surprisingly dog like sometimes,” James said. “We need to whistle to tell him his food is ready.”

“Just like his namesake,” Sirius grinned, causing James to chuckle. And with that one single joke, the awkwardness that stood between James and Sirius like a wall of ice melted away. When James was busy taking care of Snuffles, he turned his attention to Sirius, and allowed the man to lead him back into the living room. “Did you actually lock your parents’ portraits in the basement?” he chuckled.

“Yeah,” James said. “They called my son a—well you know.”

Sirius just nodded and smiled at James. “I understand. So, shall we? It’ll be easier to travel by Apparation.”

“Yeah,” James nodded as Sirius place a strong hand on his shoulder. James felt a pull at his navel and soon felt as if he was being shoved into a small cylinder as he and Sirius apparated away from the Potter house. When James’ feet land on the ground, he looked around to see he was in a cozy muggle-ish living room. “Dad!” a voice yelled, followed by the sound of footsteps.

James looked around to see a little boy running into the room, followed by a sort-of familiar woman. “Hey there Andromeda, how’s Tonks?” Sirius smiled at the woman as he bent to hug his son.

“Nymphadora is fine,” the woman said, emphasizing her daughter’s name. She turned her attention to James and gasped. “James! Why—it’s been years! Surely you remember me?”

James looked at the woman and thought for a second. “Aren’t you the Black that married a muggle? What Sirius said? Andromeda?”

The woman chuckled, “At least I’m remembered for that. Orion just had lunch,” she said turning to look at Sirius again.

James let the two adults talk as he looked down at Orion. He looked just like a miniature Sirius. He had the same ruffled black hair that James remembered Sirius had when he was young, but also he couldn’t help but notice that there were strands of hair that was a vivid bubblegum-pink. His big eyes were light brown, freckled with gray that James guessed he got from his other father, Remus. He looked up to Sirius, confused over the very unusual hair color.

“Sirius?” he asked, “Why does your son have pink hair?”

Sirius turned to look at James before looking down at his son. When he saw the pink strands of hair, he began to laugh. “Playing with Tonks?” he asked.

“Yeah, she showed me how to do this!” Orion smiled. Sirius laughed again and said, “Well, let’s change it back alright? Doesn’t seem appropriate for a first time meeting.”

“Okay,” Orion said. Then, with great concentration, the boy closed his eyes and James thought of a small strawberry as the boy’s cheek flushed as he tried to change his hair back to normal.

“I didn’t know there was metamorphmagi in your family, Sirius,” James said as Orion’s hair changed to its natural blackness.

“Me neither until this guy just woke us up, his nose looking exactly like Remus’,” Sirius said, pointing to his son. “You know Andromeda’s daughter is a Metamorphmagi as well? Tonks’ her name.”

“Tonks…” James said, “That sounds familiar… is she an Auror? I heard about some new ones, one of them a girl with pink hair. Moody has her.”

“That’s my daughter,” Andromeda said. “She isn’t qualified yet, but hopefully soon.”

“Well, I’ll have to have a look at her then,” James said.

“Dad? Who’s this?” Orion asked, finally looking at James. Sirius smirked at him and said, “You remember that old friend we told you about? The one who we thought was good, then turned into a protective loon after You-Know-Who?”

“Yeah,” Orion said, missing the sharp look James was giving Sirius.

“Meet the loon Ori! James, this is our son Orion. Orion, this is your dad’s and mine old friend, James Potter,” Sirius smiled.

“Potter? Like Harry Potter!?” Orion said excitedly.

“Yes, Harry’s my son,” James said. “He’s in Hogwarts right now.”

“Cool!” Orion said. “Is it true that Harry beat You-Know-Who when he was a baby? And that he wasn’t seen since?”

“Umm well…” James said awkwardly, not wanting to talk about that night.

“And how about for some reason both that guy with the turban and Gilderoy Lockhart had to quit after being a teacher at Hogwarts for a year?” Orion asked again.

“Where did you even heard about that—“

“Oh-oh, how about—“

“That’s enough Orion,” Sirius chuckled. He looked up at James apologetically. “Sorry about that, he’s a curious kid.”

“I can see that,” James said nodding. “I don’t know why exactly they left. Dumbledore told us that Lockhart just left and Quirrell, well he just disappeared.”

“Ohhh. Will the same thing happen to Dad?” Orion asked.

“I don’t know,” James shrugged. He looked at Sirius and checked his watch. “Well, thanks for coming to see me,” he said sincerely as Andromeda left the room. “I’m sorry that it took me this long to umm, well get my head out of my arse.”

“Ehh it’s fine James,” Sirius smiled. “Just don’t make a habit of keeping things from us.”

“Of course not,” James nodded. He sighed and looked down at Orion. “Now I just need to make up to Harry…”

“Oh don’t tell me,” Sirius moaned. “You said the thing your parents said, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” James admitted, hating himself.

“James! Well, if you need any help, I’ll do my best,” Sirius said.

“Yeah thanks,” James said. He looked down at Orion and said, “Nice to meet you kid, hopefully we’ll see more of each other. Next time I’ll see if I can bring Harry along.”

“Alright! Bye,” Orion said, quickly leaving the room. Sirius looked at James with a certain smirk as he brought the cheerful mood back. “So, does Harry have a boyfriend yet?”

“Actually yeah,” James said. “Though I wish I actually learned it from him rather than Lucius Malfoy.”

“Malfoy? What does he have to do with it?” Sirius asked.

“My son is dating his son, Draco,” James said. “One second…” He dug through his pocket and pulled out a folded picture. It was the one Parkinson took months ago. “See? That wasn’t taken consensually, however.”

“Look at them, they’re starting younger and younger aren’t they?” Sirius said, looking at the picture. “You think they’ve declared their love yet?” he chuckled.

“I hope not! Thirteen is way too young to fall in love. Hell it’s too young to even start dating,” James said. “If  Harry tells me he loves Draco it’ll be the end of me.”

“Because it’s Malfoy?”

“Because they’re too young!” James said again. “Lily and I were almost twenty before I said I loved her, and we were dating for three years.”

“Beat you there, we were eighteen and dating for two,” Sirius said.

“Point its, it’s been years yeah? Harry and Draco they’ve been what doing this for what eight, nine months? That is way too soon. And he’s Thir-bloody-teen!” James said.

“I am sensing an overprotective father moment, but I can understand,” Sirius nodded. “If Orion comes up to me and tells me he’s in love at thirteen I’ll probably laugh before setting him right.”

James laughed and said, “Thanks for understanding. Hopefully Harry will too. If he and Draco continue this, then I’m fine, but nothing serious happens when you’re a teenager. Especially when you’re so young like him.”

“I don’t know, I did learn how to turn into a very handsome big dog as a teenager,” Sirius said.

“Besides that Sirius. Nothing serious happens in relationships when you’re a teenager. Harry and Draco can say their ‘I love you’s but only after they graduate. Or at least wait till they’re in their sixth year,” James said.

“I hear you,” Sirius nodded. “Listen, I have to take care of a… rat problem, alright? We need to do this again soon.”

“Yeah, sure. Hopefully with all five of us?” James asked. Sirius agreed.

James and Sirius said their goodbyes and James left the room by Floo Powder, feeling as if a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders as he walked into his office. He sat down contently in his chair and looked at his picture of Lily. “I told them Lily,” he said. “And I think I feel better… yeah.”

 

It was the dead of night at Hogwarts. The courtyard was washed with moonlight, as the cloudless night watched upon the sleeping castle. Everything seemed to be asleep, not even the trees made a sound as a light breeze push through them, bringing an ominous air to the castle. The only sounds that the castle can hear were the ominous, peaceful air as the castle was lulled to tiredness. Not even the sounds of doors opening, and footsteps on pavement could have woken the castle as two figures met in the courtyard, each with a vendetta against the other, both with a similar goal. When they reached the middle of the courtyard, they both just stared at each other, both waiting for the other to make the first move.

The two continued to glare, wands at the ready, until the first one spoke. “Flint.”

“Wood,” said the other.

“I’m surprised you showed up,” Oliver smirked. “Thought you were going to wuss out and call Filch.”

“Course not,” Flint smirked, “If I can’t beat you for the Cup, then I’ll just beat you in a duel.”

Oliver Wood smirk cockily. “You’re not going to win,” he said. “And after I beat you, you’ll leave me and George alone. Forever.”

A laugh caught in Flint’s throat as he glared at Oliver. “As if I’ll lose to you poof,” he said. Then, with speed Oliver didn’t see, Flint brought his wand up and yelled, “ _Stupefy!_ ”

“ _Protego!_ ” Oliver yelled, the stunning spell blasted into nothingness as it hit Oliver’s invisible shield. He glared at his opponent before whipping his wand, “ _Rictusempra!_ ” A silver light shot from Oliver’s wand and hit Flint straight in the stomach. The Slytherin doubled over and started to uncontrollably laugh as Oliver’s tickling charm hit him.

Still laughing, Flint struggled to point his wand at Oliver. He laughed out a spell, and a white light fired from his wand. The spell lashed out onto Oliver, hitting him in the wrist where an angry welt appeared on it. Oliver screamed in shock and pain before grinding his teeth. He ignored the pain as he fired a disarming charm, which Flint dodged. Flint was still chuckling, but he seemed to have full control of his body as he started firing jinxs and hexes randomly, all of them aimed directly at Oliver.

Oliver only had a second’s notice to dodge the spells, running behind pillars and stone benches to avoid the spells. When he stopped to counterattack, Flint yelled “ _Locomotor Mortis!_ ”

Oliver’s legs snapped together, and he instantly fell, rolling around on the floor, scrapping his cheeks. He turned onto his back, the pain far less than getting smacked by a bludger, and said, “ _Relashio!_ ” The spell forced Flint back, the boy flying into the air a couple of feet off the ground before falling onto a stone bench. Oliver heard the crack of the bench as Flint’s back landed on it, the boy flipping over it and hitting his head on the stone floor. Oliver didn’t care as he pointed his wand at his legs and quickly said the counter-jinx, warmth and movement returning instantly to his legs.

Oliver jumped up to see Flint staggering to his feet, grunting in pain at his back. Oliver couldn’t help but smirk at that and he pointed his wand at Flint. “ _Expelli—_ “

“ _Stupefy!_ ” Flint roared. The stunning spell forced Oliver back to the ground as he flew back, barely holding onto his wand. Flint smirked cockily and walked slowly towards Oliver. “Told ya you’ll never win,” Flint gloated. “Looks like Weasley’s ass will be mine again. Maybe this time I’ll do something to make sure he’ll never run from me again. How about—“

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Oliver yelled from the ground. The red light hit Flint’s hand expertly and his wand flew into the air. With Flint wandless, Oliver quickly got to his feet as the wand fell before him. He pointed his wand again at Flint and yelled, “ _Stupefy_!”

Flint fell to the ground, and in his anger Oliver continued, casting the same stinging hex that Flint casted on him. Welts appeared on Flint’s arms as the Slytherin Quidditch Captain cried in pain. Just to make sure Flint had learned his lesson, Oliver kneeled before Flint’s body and made a fist.

“You will leave George alone,” Oliver seethed before punching Flint’s nose, a satisfying crunching sound filling the air. Blood gushed from Flint’s broken nose and, satisfied, Oliver stood up to leave. When he reached the outskirts of the courtyard, the door opened and a voice yelled out, “What in the blazes is going on here?”

Oliver looked to see that Filch was standing in the only entrance. “Who is stupid enough to be outside with dementors around?” Filch grumbled as he held his lantern higher, the light revealing Flint. As the caretaker walked up to the still bleeding Filch, Oliver sneaked around the courtyard, making his way to the door. “What are you doing out of bed?” Filch growled at Flint as he groaned. “Get up! Let’s see Slytherin eh? Just wait till Snape hears about you. You’re all bruised up, obviously been dueling, and out of bed—“

Oliver heard a meowing noise and turned in horror to see Mrs. Norris standing right behind him, trialing him as he almost escaped. “And there’s the other one! Three weeks detention I think! Just wait till I tell your Heads of Houses. Off to bed!”

Angry that he couldn’t escape in time, Oliver threw Flint as many sharp looks as he could as they were forced to follow Filch inside. Filch led them to his office where he wrote their detentions, the two boys glaring at each other and saying nothing as he did so, before kicking them out. Oliver ignored Filch as he made his way directly towards Gryffindor Tower, his victory now feeling sour by the three weeks of detention he now had to serve.

 

“So what?” Blaise asked. He finally was able to hang out with Ron before the exams started. Ron was awkward about how it was just them two, but he was grateful for the break from studying. He had just finished telling Blaise about Hagrid’s appeal, and how they were bringing an executor to it. “That’s it? They already made their decision?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, irritated. “And I’ve spent ages reading up on stuff for him; they can’t just ignore it all!”

“That’s awful,” Blaise frowned. “Is there anything you guys can do?”

“No, just hope that Hagrid wins the appeal,” Ron said. Blaise nodded and took a step closer to Ron. Ron barely noticed as he continued to rant. Blaise was being a good listener as Ron complained. They turned the corner and Ron looked at Blaise.

“Hmm?” Blaise asked.

“Nothing,” Ron said, looking away. He didn’t notice Blaise’s smirk as he again took a step closer. “So Ron,” Blaise said, “How is the uh… rat situation?”

Ron looked at Blaise for a moment before sighing. “Fine, I guess. I mean, Hermione and I made up a while ago. Though I’m not going near that damn cat soon,” Ron said.

Blaise nodded. “Didn’t you told me that your parents’ are buying you an owl?”

“Maybe they will,” Ron said. “They might, that’s what I said.” Blaise nodded and looked at his friend. “Do you know when…”

“Huh? Oh it’s on the sixth, the day we finish the exams,” Ron said.

“You and Harry going to visit?” Blaise asked.

“Yeah, we’re thinking of,” Ron said. “Me, Harry, and Hermione.” Blaise nodded and looked outside. “You heard about the duel between Wood and Flint?”

“Yeah,” Ron said smirking, “George and Fred told me all about it.” Blaise smiled at Ron’s higher mood. “Wood beat Flint in a duel and broke his nose,” Ron said.

Blaise nodded and smiled, “I know! You should have seen the looks he was giving everyone the next day. Draco and I couldn’t stop laughing.”

“You mean Malfoy can laugh?” Ron gasped.

Blaise snickered and nodded, “Yes believe it or not, he does.”

“You’re pulling me,” Ron said. “There is no way that prat can laugh.”

Blaise shrugged and said, “Believe what you want Ron, but Draco can in fact laugh. And like a real laugh, not one of those snickers.”

“Sucks Wood have detention though,” Ron said. “It would’ve been brilliant if only Flint got caught.”

“Yeah,” Blaise nodded. “Flint’s stuck cleaning all of Snape’s cauldrons.”

“Wood’s polishing the suits of armor,” Ron said. “George is hating it, it’s digging into their time.”

“How you feel, if you don’t mind me asking,” Blaise said suddenly. “About your brother, you know, dating a guy?”

“He’s loads better than Flint if that’s what you’re asking,” Ron said. “I can’t believe he even thought about snogging that troll! George must have been hit by a Delusion Charm or something.”

“No, no, I mean him dating a guy in general,” Blaise said. “Though I agree, Flint’s a bit of a troll.”

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” Ron shrugged. “I mean, if he’s happy then go ahead. I just don’t want to catch him and Wood snogging onto of the kitchen table or something.”

Blaise chuckled and smiled at him, “Because it’s weird to see your brother kissing?”

“That and I eat there!” Ron said horrified, shuttering at the thought. “I don’t want to put my food on a place someone snogged on!”

“Fair enough,” Blaise chuckled. “What if you just see them, I don’t know, snogging somewhere else, like a couch or something.”

“Stop em, or leave them alone,” Ron said. “Why you asking all these questions?”

“No reason Ron, no reason. Just need to get my mind from the exams,” Blaise said. Ron chuckled and agreed. “So, what are your plans for the summer?” Blaise asked.

“Dad’ll probably get tickets for the World Cup,” Ron said. “So we’ll go there and see the Irish win.”

“The Irish?” Blaise chuckled. “Didn’t we have this conversation? The Bulgarians are going to win.”

“Nah-uh the Irish,” Ron said smiled. Blaise laughed and shook his head. “Whatever you say Ron, whatever you say.”

The two continued to talk and walk around the castle. They’ve gained a few weird looks, but they didn’t notice as they talked about nothing. Their excitement and conversation echoed throughout the castle as they walked. Even though they entered June, a chill surrounded the castle as exam week began, an unnatural hush fell over the castle. The third years emerged from Transfiguration at lunchtime on Monday, limp and ashen-faced, comparing results and bemoaning the difficulty of the tasks they had been set, which had included turning a teapot into a tortoise. Hermione irritated the rest by fussing about how her tortoise had looked more like a turtle, which was the least of everyone else’s worries. Blaise and Ron barely saw each other, only giving friendly “hellos” and “how are yous” as they past. Ron noticed that the week seemed to affect Harry worst as he kept looking over at the Slytherin table, undoubtedly looking at Draco. It was worse during their Charms exam, as they had that class with the Slytherins, so Ron noticed that every now and then Harry looked at Draco when he was supposed to be performing a Cheering Charm on Ron. As a result, Harry overdid it and Ron ended up in fits of hysterical laughter and had to be led away to a quiet room for an hour before he was ready to perform the charm himself.

Their exams continued in a cycle of study, hastily eat, take, hastily eat, take, and study more. Both Ron and Harry seemed to lose track of time as their lives been consumed by the exams. Before they knew it, though thoroughly exhausted, they were on the last day of exams. Harry felt nervous, as it was also the day of the appeal, and both he and Draco had a horrible feeling as they talked about it in their brief time they had together the night before. But he had to push those feelings aside as he Ron walked towards their last exam: Divination.

They climbed up the marble staircase, where they saw many of their classmates sitting on the stairs, trying to cram in a bit of last-minute studying.

“She’s seeing us all separately,” Neville informed them as they went to sit down next to him. “Have either of you ever seen _anything_ in a crystal ball?” he asked them unhappily.

“Nope,” Ron said in an offhand voice. He kept checking his watch; Harry knew that he was counting down the time until Buckbeak’s appeal started. Ron looked at Harry and whispered, “You sure there was nothing Malfoy couldn’t do?”

“He kept sending letters, but he never got replies,” Harry whispered back.

The line of people outside the classroom shortened very slowly. As each person climbed back down the silver ladder, the rest of the class hissed, “What did she ask? Was it okay?”

But they all refused to say.

“She says the crystal ball’s told her that if I tell you, I’ll have a horrible accident!” Neville squeaked as he clambered back down the ladder.

“That’s convenient,” Ron snorted. “You know, I’m starting to think Hermione was right about her, she’s a right old fraud.”

“Wish she’d hurry up though,” Harry said, checking his watch. Soon, the familiar, misty voice called for Ron over their heads. Ron grimaced and left Harry alone as he climbed the ladder. Harry settled himself on the floor with his back to the wall, his mind across the grounds with Hagrid.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, Ron’s large feet reappeared on the ladder. “How’d it go?” Harry asked.

“Rubbish, couldn’t see a thing , so I made some stuff up Don’t think she was convinced, though…” Ron said.

“Meet you in the common room,” Harry muttered as Professor Trelawney called his name.

The tower room was hotter than ever before; the curtains were closed, the fire was alight, and the usual sickly scent made Harry cough as he stumbled through the clutter of chairs and tables to where Professor Trelawney sat waiting for him before a large crystal ball.

“Good day, my dear,” she said softly. “If you would kindly gaze into the Orb. …Take your time, now …then tell me what you see within it. …”

Harry bent over the crystal ball and stared, stared as hard as he could, willing it to show him something other than swirling white fog, but nothing came. His mind began to wander, first to Draco. He missed his boyfriend, and wanted desperately to see the blonde Slytherin. But still the white fog just swirled as his mind drifted towards Hagrid and Buckbeak, so he did what Ron did and decided to pretend.

“I dark shape… um…”

“What does it resemble?” Professor Trelawney whispered, “Think, now… boy or animal?”

“Animal… A hippogriff,” Harry said firmly.

“Indeed!” Professor Trelawney whispered, scribbling keenly on the parchment paper upon her knees. “My boy, you may well be seeing the outcome of poor Hagrid’s trouble with the Ministry of Magic! Look closer. …Does the hippogriff appear to …have its head?”

“Yes,” Harry said firmly.

“Are you sure?” Professor Trelawney urged him. “Are you quite sure, dear? You don’t see it writhing on the ground, perhaps, and a shadowy figure raising an axe behind it?”

“No!” Harry said, starting to feel slightly sick.

“No blood? No weeping Hagrid?”

“No!” Harry said again, wanting more than ever to leave the room and heat. “It looks fine it’s flying away. …”

Professor Trelawney sighed. “Well, dear, I think we’ll leave it there. … A little disappointing …but I’m sure you did your best.”

Relieved, Harry got up, picked up his bag and turned to go, but then a loud, harsh voice spoke behind him.

“ _IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT.”_

Harry wheeled around. Professor Trelawney had gone rigid in her armchair; her eyes were unfocused and her mouth sagging.

“S—sorry?” Harry said.

But Professor Trelawney didn’t seem to hear him. Her eyes started to roll. Harry sat there in a panic. She looked as though she was about to have some sort of seizure. He hesitated, thinking of running to the hospital wing—and then Professor Trelawney spoke again, in the same harsh voice, quite unlike her own.

“ _THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT …THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT’S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT …BEFORE MIDNIGHT …THE SERVANT …WILL SET OUT…TO REJOIN… HIS MASTER. …”_


	16. The Shrieking Shack

Chapter 16

The Shrieking Shack

Harry stared at Professor Trelawney. “Sorry?” Harry said. Then quite suddenly, Professor Trelawney’s head snapped towards Harry.

“I’m so sorry, dear boy,” Professor Trelawney said dreamily, “the heat of the day, you know … I drifted off for a moment. …”

Harry sat there, staring at her.

“Is there anything wrong, my dear?”

“N-No, nothing,” Harry lied. He quickly packed up, his mind buzzing with what Professor Trelawney said. The Dark Lord returning? How is that possible? It can’t be! Harry felt a bit of dread as he quickly made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, he needed to tell Hermione and Ron before finding Draco. Fear and confusion led his feet as he ran towards the Tower, practically shouting the password at the Fat Lady when he reached the landing.

He found Ron and Hermione in the corner of the common room. “Professor Trelawney,” he panted, “just told me—“

But he stopped abruptly at the sight of their faces.

“Buckbeak lost,” Ron said weakly, “Hagrid’s just sent this.”

Hagrid’s note was dry this time, no tears had splattered it, yet his hand seemed to have shaken so much as he wrote that it was hardly legible.

**_Lost appeal. They’re going to execute at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don’t come down. I don’t want you to see it._ **

**_Hagrid_ **

“We’ve got to go,” Harry said, all thoughts of the Dark Lord fleeing his mind. “He can’t just sit there on his own, waiting for the executioner!”

“Sunset, though,” Ron said, who was staring out the window in a glazed sort of way. “We’d never be allowed…”

“We’ll use the Invisibility Cloak,” Hermione said. Harry and Ron agreed, the three running up to the boy’s dormitory to get it. Harry hid it under his robes as they went down to dinner with everybody else. Harry looked up at the Slytherin Table and saw Draco, frowning at him. He didn’t need to say anything, but Harry knew that Draco knew about the execution.

Harry excused himself and walked out of the Great Hall, he only had to wait five minutes for Draco to follow. They both just stared at each other, not knowing what to say or how to approach the subject. Knowing that death is just hours away is a fickle thing.

Then, finally, Draco opened his mouth and said, “My father wrote me a letter. …He seemed proud of it.”

“Hagrid’s distraught,” Harry said. “Told us not to come.”

“But you are … aren’t you?” Draco asked. Harry looked up and nodded his head. “Wish I could come with you, but I don’t think he would be happy seeing a Malfoy at the moment.”

“Yeah…” Harry said. He looked up at Draco and frowned. He didn’t cry, he couldn’t cry, nor did he try to kiss his boyfriend, or even hug him. It felt as if any physical attraction right now would be too grand, too happy for their somber mood. But still he needed an anchor to the world, so he just reached out and held Draco’s hand. “I’m a bit scared,” he admitted to Draco. “Not about the execution… but about something else.”

“What?” Draco asked. Harry looked at him and told him about what Professor Trelawney said to him only hours ago. “No way,” Draco said in disbelief. “She had to be joking, right?”

“If she is, it’s a bad one,” Harry said. “But, You-Know-Who returning… that worries me.”

“I know,” Draco said. “But he’s dead yeah? He died when he tried to kill you and your dad.”

“When I was a baby…” Harry said. They looked at each other, then Draco said, “I’m coming with you.”

“What?”

“I’m coming with you, to Hagrid’s.”

“No you’re not,” Harry said. “You’re not getting in trouble for something so stupid as being out of the castle.”

“So then you’re not going,” Draco declared.

“Excuse me?”

“You are not going,” Draco said. “If it’s too dangerous for me, it’s too dangerous for you.”

“We are not going to have this argument,” Harry said, looking around to make sure no one was listening in. “You are not going. Ron, Hermione, and I have the Invisibility Cloak, and I am sure that four of us won’t all fit under it. I’m sorry Draco, but I’m going. …Look, as soon as… as soon as we’re done, I’ll come looking for you, okay?”

“Entrance hall at eight,” Draco said. “Don’t you dare be late.”

“I’ll won’t,” Harry said, happy that Draco understood his decision. They shared a kiss then returned to dinner.

After dinner, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sneaked off from the crowd leaving the Great Hall, and quickly slipped under the Invisibility Cloak. They made their way to Hagrid’s and knocked, the sun was already sinking behind the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid was initially mad that they’ve came to visit him, but Harry suspected he was glad for their company. Buckbeak was outside the cabin, in the pumpkin patch, Hagrid thought that he should see the trees and smell the fresh air one last time.

Hagrid was tearful, and accidently smashed a milk jug as he explained that Dumbledore was coming down to be with him during the execution. Hermione offered to get a new one, and that was when she shrieked. “Ron! I—I don’t believe it—it’s Scabbers!”

Ron gaped at her.

“What are you talking about?”

Hermione carried the milk jug over to the table and turned it upside down. With a frantic squeak, and much scrambling to get back inside, Scabbers the rat came sliding out onto the table.

“Scabbers!” Ron said blankly. “Scabbers, what are you doing here?”

He grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light. Scabbers looked dreadful. He was thinner than ever, large tufts of hair had fallen out leaving wide bald patches, and he writhed in Ron’s hands as though desperate to free himself.

“It’s okay Scabbers!” Ron said. “No cars! There’s nothing here to hurt you!”

Hagrid suddenly stood up, his eyes fixed on the window. His normally ruddy face had gone the color of parchment. “They’re comin’… Yeh gotta go,” he said, every inch of him trembling. “Go now…”

Ron stuffed Scabbers into his pocket and Hermione picked up the cloak. They followed Hagrid to the door to the back garden. Harry felt strangely unreal, and even more so when he saw Buckbeak a few yards away, tethered to a tree behind Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. They had no choice. Hermione threw the cloak over Harry and Ron, they heard voices at the front of the cabin. Hagrid told them to leave again, more forcefully, and slowly, in a kind of horrified trance, the three set off silently around Hagrid’s house.

“Please, let’s hurry,” Hermione whispered. “I can’t stand it, I can’t bear it. …” They started up the sloping lawn toward the castle. The sun was sinking fast now; the sky had turned to a clear, purple-tinged grey, but to the west there was a ruby-red glow.

Ron stopped dead.

“Oh, please Ron,” Hermione began.

“It’s Scabbers—he won’t—stay put—“

Ron was bent over, trying to keep Scabbers in his pocket, but the rat was going berserk; squeaking madly, twisting and flailing , trying to sink his teeth into Ron’s hand. Ron continued to struggle as they heard background noises, then, as if cutting into their very souls, the unmistakable swish and thud of an axe filled the air.

Hermione swayed on the spot.

“They did it!” she whispered to Harry. “I d—don’t believe it—they did it!”

But they didn’t have any time to mourn as Ron continued to struggle with Scabbers, the rat trying desperate, frantically to escape Ron’s pocket. In his struggles, the Invisibility cloak somehow was pulled off of them, lying on the ground as Ron continued to fight with Scabbers. With one final bite, Ron dropped the rat and yelled its name. Ron started to chase after Scabbers, Harry and Hermione running after their friend, Hermione taking time to collect the Invisibility Cloak.

“Scabbers, come here—“ Ron yelled as he ran. Harry saw a dart of orange, and saw Crookshanks running towards them. “No!” Ron yelled. “Stay away—you ruddy cat!” He bent for a grab just as Crookshanks pounced. “Gotcha!” Get off you stinking cat—“

Harry and Hermione almost fell over Ron; they skidded to a stop right in front of him. He was sprawled on the ground, but Scabbers was back in his pocket; he had both hands held tight over the quivering lump.

“Ron—come on—back under the cloak—“ Hermione panted. “Dumbledore—the Minister—they’ll be coming back in a minute—“

But become they could cover themselves again, before they could even catch their breath, they heard the soft pounding of gigantic paws. …Something was bounding toward them, quiet as a shadow—an enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black dog.

Harry reached for his wand, but too late—the dog had made an enormous leap and the front paws hit him on the chest; he keeled over backward in a whirl of hair; he felt its hot breath, saw inch-long teeth—

The dog, however, ignored Harry as he dropped his wand, and chased after Ron. The dog’s jaws locked onto Ron’s leg, pulling the wizard to the ground, and dragging him like a rag doll. Then, out of nowhere, something hit Harry so hard across the face he was knocked off his feet again. He heard Hermione shriek with pain and fall too.

They had chased Scabbers all the way towards the Whomping Willow. Harry saw the dog drag Ron backward into a large gap in the roots—Ron was fighting furiously, but it was no use.

“RON!” They both yelled.

Then, somewhere far off, Harry heard someone calling his name. He spun around to see Draco Malfoy running towards them. “Go away!” Harry yelled. It’s too dangerous, he thought.

“Harry! What’s going on?” Draco yelled as he ran up to the Whomping Willow. “What happened—why are you—“

“Shut it Malfoy, something’s got Ron!” Hermione gasped. She was bleeding from where she was hit as she frantically looked for a way to go after her friend. “Harry—we’ve got to go for help—“ she said.

“No! That thing’s big enough to eat him, we don’t have time!” Harry said, panting. “If that dog can get in, then so can we!” He started darting here and there, trying to find a way through the vicious, swishing branches, but he couldn’t get an inch nearer to the tree roots without being in range of the tree’s blows.

“What exactly is going on?” Draco demanded.

“An enormous dog came out of nowhere and got Ron,” Hermione said quickly, as if that was all she wanted to talk to Draco. Crookshanks darted forward. He slithered between the battering branches like a snake and placed his front paws upon a knot on the trunk.

Abruptly, as though the tree had been turned to marble, it stopped moving. “Crookshanks!” Hermione whispered uncertainly. “How did he know—?”

“Come on—and keep your wand out—“ Harry said to Hermione. He looked at Draco and said, “Go get help.”

“Screw that Potter, I’m coming with you,” Draco said. And to show that there was no point of arguing, Draco pulled his wand out and marched ahead of Hermione and Harry, into the gap under the tree. Reluctantly, Harry followed and soon it was the three students, being led by Crookshanks as the cat expertly walked down the tunnel.

“Where does this tunnel come out?” Hermione asked breathlessly from behind Harry.

“I don’t know. …It’s marked on the Marauder’s Map but Fred and George said no one’s ever gotten into it. …It goes off the edge of the map, but it looked like it was heading for Hogsmeade. …”

“Where ever it goes, let just get there quickly before that thing eats Weasley,” Draco whispered back.

They moved as fast as they could, bent almost double, ahead of them, Crookshanks’s tail bobbed in and out of view. On and on went the passage; it felt at least as ong as the one to Honeydukes. …All Harry could think of was Ron and what the enormous dog might be doing to him. …He was drawing breath in sharp, painful gasps, running at a crouch.

And then the tunnel began to rise; moments later it twisted, and Crookshanks had gone. Instead, Harry could see a patch of dim light through a small opening.

He, Hermione, and Draco paused, gasping for breath, edging forward. Their wands raised to see what lay beyond.

It was a room, a very disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up.

“Where are we?” Harry asked as they pulled themselves out of the hole.

“Harry… I think we’re in the Shrieking Shack,” Hermione whispered.

At the moment, there was a creak overhead. Something had moved upstairs. The three looked at the ceiling. Quietly as they could, they crept out into the hall and up the crumbling staircase. Harry took the head as they reached the dark landing.

Only one door was open. As they crept toward it, they heard movement from behind it; a low moan, and then a deep, loud purring. They exchanged a last look, a last nod.

Wands held tightly before him, Harry kicked the door wide open.

On a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings lay Crookshanks, purring loudly at the sight of them. On the floor beside him, clutching his leg, which stuck out at an odd angle, was Ron.

Harry and Hermione dashed across to him, Draco walking cautiously into the room.

“Ron—are you okay?”

“Where’s the dog?”

“Not a dog,” Ron moaned. His teeth were gritted with pain. “Harry, it’s a trap—“

“What—“

“ _He’s the dog …he’s an Animagus. …”_

Ron was staring over Harry’s shoulder. Harry wheeled around. With a snap, the man in the shadows closed the door behind him. A mass of matted hair hung to his shoulders. Eyes shining dark as he stared at them. “ _Expelliarmus!_ ” the man said with Ron’s wand.

Harry’s, Draco’s and Hermione’s wands shot out of their hands, high in the air, and the man caught them. “This will make things a bit easier,” the man grunted. “I thought you’d come and help your friend. Brave of you, not running for a teacher. … Your father would have done the same.”

Infuriated at the mention of his father, Harry felt a boiling anger erupt inside him. Whoever this man was, Harry wanted his wand back, not to stun, but to hurt. To hurt so bad that even his father could feel it wherever that man is.

Without knowing what he was doing, Harry started forward, but ther was a sudden movement on either side of him and three pairs of hands grabbed him and held him back. “Don’t even think about it Harry,” Draco hissed. “Harry, Stop,” Hermione said.

Ron, however, spoke to the man. “If you want to kill Harry, you’ll have to kill us too!”

Kill? Why would anyone want to kill Harry? The thought terrified him for a moment, thinking that there was someone out there who wanted him dead, and he didn’t know the reason why.

“Lie down,” the man said quietly to Ron. “You will damage that leg even more.”

“Did you hear me?” Ron said weakly, though he was clinging painfully to Harry to stay upright. “You’ll have to kill all thre—four of us!”

“There’ll be only one murder here tonight,” the man said, and his grin widened.

“Why’s that?” Harry spat. “Who are you?”

“I’ve waited so long…” the man continued. He took a step towards them, but stopped suddenly.

Muffled footsteps were echoing up through the floor—someone was moving downstairs.

“WE’RE UP HERE!” Hermione screamed suddenly. “WE’RE UP HERE— _QUICK!_ ”

The man made a startled movement, Harry broke free from the hands holding him and leapt towards the man, trying to get his wand. The footsteps were thundering up the stairs when Harry landed on the man, his fists smashing into the man’s stomach as he grabbed for the wands.

The door of the room burst open in a shower of red sparks and Harry wheeled around as Professor Lupin-Black and his father came hurdling into the room, wands at the ready. “Dad!” he yelled out. Lupin-Black’s eyes flickered over Ron, lying on the floor, over Hermione, cowering near Ron, Draco, not knowing what to do, to Harry, still struggling to grab his wand.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” Lupin-Black shouted. The wands in both the man’s and Harry’s hands flew out of their grasps and into Lupin’s waiting hand. James ran forward to Harry, and jerked him off of the man.

“Are you okay?” he breathed.

“Y-Yeah—but Dad,” Harry said, relieved that his father was here, forgetting their last encounter.

His dad made sure that his son was okay, before turning to the man. “Where is he Sirius?” he asked in a tense voice.

“D-Dad?” Harry asked, confused. “Sirius? Sirius Black!?”

He didn’t know what his dad meant. Sirius Black? Professor Lupin-Black’s husband? Why is he here? And why is he trying to kill them?

Black’s face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn’t move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand and pointed straight at Ron. Mystified, Harry glanced around at Ron, who looked bewildered.

“But then…” Professor Lupin-Black said, staring at his husband so intently it was as if he was trying to read his mind, “…why hasn’t he shown himself before now?”

“What is going on?” Draco demanded, looking between the three adults. He was still stuck to his place, unable to move no matter how hard he wanted to go to his boyfriend. The three adults turned their attention to him.

“I DON’T BELIEVE IT!” Hermione screamed.

The adults turned to her. She had raised herself off the floor and was pointing at Lupin, wide-eyed. “You—you—“

“Hermione—“

“—you and him!”

“Hermione, calm down—“

“I didn’t tell anyone!” Hermione shrieked. “I’ve been covering up for you—“

“Hermione, listen to me, please!” Lupin-Black shouted. “I can explain—“

Harry could feel himself shaking, not with fear, but with a fresh wave of fury.

“I trusted you!” he shouted at Lupin.

“Harry! That’s enough!” His father yelled at him. “Listen to us.”

“Harry, please—“

“Don’t trust him Harry!” Hermione said. “He’s a werewolf!”

There was a ringing silence. Draco instinctively moved towards Harry and James, bending down to hold Harry. Everyone’s eyes were now on Lupin-Black, who looked remarkably calm, though rather pale.

“Yes,” he said. “I am a werewolf, I will not deny that.”

Ron made a valiant effort to get up again but fell back with a whimper of pain. Lupin-Black made toward him, looking concerned, but Ron gasped.

“ _Get away from me, werewolf!_ ”

Lupin-Black stopped dead. Then, with an obvious effort, he turned to Hermione and said, “How long have you known?”

“Ages,” Hermione said, “Since Professor Snape’s essay…”

“He’ll be delighted,” Lupin-Black said coolly. “He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize why my symptoms meant.”

“Remus,” James spoke up. “Sirius says he’s here. Let’s get this over with.”

“What are you doing?” Harry demanded, shoving away from his dad and standing up with the help of Draco. James frowned, but stood up as well.

“Look, we can explain later, but right now we just need him,” James said, pointing towards Ron.

“M-Me? But I haven’t done anything!”

“Not you Ron,” James said. “Your rat. Scabbers.” He looked at Lupin-Black and said, “You sure he brought him?”

“Yes,” Lupin-Black said. “The map showed Sirius dragging the two of them here.”

“But Black only pulled Weasley!” Draco argued.

“No, he pulled two,” Lupin-Black said. “The map never lies.”

“How do you know how the map works?” Harry demanded.

“Of course, he knew,” James said. “We made it. He was Moody, Sirius there was Padfoot, and I was Prongs.”

Harry stared at his father in disbelief. James pointed at Ron again, and said, “And there is Wormtail. Back from the dead.”

“Though, not for long,” Sirius added.

Ron stared at the adults, petrified with fear and confusion.

“Do you think I can have a look at the rat?” Lupin-Black said evenly.

“What?” Ron said. “What’s Scabbers got to do with it?”

“Everything,” James said. “Give Remus the rat, Ron.”

Ron hesitated, then put a hand inside his robes. Scabbers emerged, thrashing desperately; Ron had to seize his long bald tail to stop him escaping.

Lupin-Black moved closer to Ron. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed intently at Scabbers.

“What?” Ron said again, holding Scabbers close to him, looking scared. “What’s my rat got to do with anything?”

“That’s not a rat,” Sirius Black said suddenly. “He’s an Animagus, but the name of Peter Pettigrew.”

It took a few seconds for the absurdity of this statement to sink in. Then Ron voiced what Harry was thinking.

“You’re all mental.”

“Ridiculous,” Hermione said faintly.

“You told me Pettigrew’s dead,” Harry said to his father. “Twelve years ago after…”

“I know, it’s hard to believe, but it’s true Harry,” James said.

“Enough of this! Let’s just get it over with!” Sirius said as he lunged at Scabbers. Ron yelled with pain as Black’s weight fell on his broken leg.

“Sirius, NO!” Lupin-Black yelled, launching himself forwards and dragging Black away from Ron again. “WAIT! You can’t do it just like that—they need to understand—we’ve got to explain—“

“We can explain afterwards!” Black snarled, trying to throw his husband off.

“They’ve—got—a—right—to—know—everything!” Lupin-Black panted, still trying to restrain Black. “Ron’s kept him as a pet! There are parts of it even I don’t understand! And Harry—we owe Harry the truth, Sirius!”

Black stopped struggling, though his eyes were still fixed on Scabbers, who was clamped tightly under Ron’s bitten, scratched, and bleeding hands.

“All right then,” Black said without taking his eyes off the rat. “James tell them,” he said. “But make it quick! If I am to be committed for murder, I actually want to do it!”

James sighed and looked at Harry, speaking mainly to him, but his voice was loud enough so everyone could hear. “You know, of course, about my days at Hogwarts.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “You told me you and mum used to hang out a lot with three other guys.”

James nodded. “Yeah, it was me, your mum, these two, and one other. But before it was me and your mum, it was just the four of us. Me, Remus, Sirius, …and Pettigrew. The four of us made that map, and used it to explore the castle.”

“That doesn’t explain how the rat can be Pettigrew,” Draco interrupted, staring at his boyfriend’s father with distrust.

James shook his head and said, “I’m getting to that. This whole place, the Whomping Willow, the tunnel, and the shack was built because of Remus. Before Dumbledore was Headmaster, there was no way a werewolf would have come to Hogwarts. But since the old man was way more sympathetic then the previous headmasters, Remus was allowed and every full moon he was smuggled here so he can transform. Sirius and I found out around our second year that this was happening.”

“I was terrified that they would desert me the moment they found out what I was,” Lupin-Black said. “But, of course, they worked out the truth, no matter what excuse I’ve made up, and they didn’t desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi.”

“You too?” Harry asked, looking at his dad.

James nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asked.

James shrugged, “You didn’t ask,” he said simply. “Besides, it’s been years since I transformed. It would probably take a lot from me if I do it now.”

“So what?” Draco said in disbelief, “We’re supposed to accept that you three just happened to learn to become Animagi?”

“Well it took us three years,” James said. “It was hard, really hard, Pettigrew needed all the help he could get from us. But finally in our fifth year, we were able to turn into animals at will.”

“But how did that help you?” Hermione said, sounding puzzled.

“They couldn’t keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals,” Lupin-Black answered. “A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the caslte every month under James’s Invisibility Cloak. They transformed …Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow’s attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them.”

“Hurry up, Remus,” Black snarled, who was still watching Scabbers with a horrible sort of hunger on his face.

“Harry,” James said suddenly. “What do you remember, of _that_ night? You remember what I told you?”

Harry nodded with a frown. “But wait,” Hermione interrupted. “It’s illegal for you to become an Animagus and not register it with the Ministry.”

“Yes, it is Hermione,” Lupin nodded. “They became illegal Animagi in order to help me during those nights.”

James nodded and looked at Harry, ignoring Hermione’s look of shock. “Harry?” he repeated.

“You and mum went to Godric’s Hollow to hide me away,” Harry began. “Dumbledore told you two that You-Know-Who was after us, and that hiding would be best. He helped you two find the house, and suggested a Secret-Keeper. You and Mum thought of using Sirius, but didn’t because it would be too obvious, but instead you chose Pettigrew.”

James nodded solemnly. “A decision that I regret,” he sighed. “It was Sirius’s idea to have Peter Pettigrew as our Secret-Keeper. We thought that the Dark Lord wouldn’t go after him. But we were wrong. Pettigrew betrayed us to You-Know-Who, and because of him your mother is dead.”

Harry looked at his father, not truly knowing if he should believe him or not. “But, Pettigrew died, you said so yourself. You looked for him, but couldn’t find him, and he was then left as dead.”

“Yes, we all thought he died,” James said. “But we were wrong.”

“How could you be wrong?” Draco asked.

“Easy, the map,” Lupin-Black said. “After Harry told me that he saw Pettigrew’s name on the map, I couldn’t believe it. But when I saw it again tonight, I’ve contacted James immediately and we chased after you.”

“Just give us the rat!” Sirius said, “It’ll be easier to show you then tell you!”

“What are you going to do with him if I give him to you?” Ron asked Lupin-Black tensely.

“Force him to show himself,” Lupin-Black said. “If he really is a rat, it won’t hurt him.”

Ron hesitated. Then at long last, he held out Scabbers and Lupin-Black took him. Scabbers bagan to squeak without stopping, twisting and turning, his tiny black eyes bulging in his head.

“Ready boys?” Lupin-Black asked Sirius and James. They both approached Lupin-Black and the struggling rat, and his eyes seemed to be burning in his face.

“Together,” James said.

A flash of blue-white light erupted from the three wands; for a moment, Scabbers was frozen in midair, his small gray form twisting madly—Ron yelled—the rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of light and then—

It was like watching a speeded up film of a growing tree. A head was shooting upward from the ground; limbs were sprouting a moment later, a man was standing where Scabbers had been, cringing and wringing his hands. Crookshanks was spitting and snarling on the bed; the hair on his back was standing up.

He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry and Hermione. His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who had lost a lot of weight in a short time. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabber’s fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes. He looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. Harry saw his eyes dart to the door and back again.

“Well, hello, Peter,” Lupin-Black said pleasantly, as though rats frequently erupted into old school friends around him. “Long time no see.”

“S—Sirius… R-Remus…J-James… My friends …my old friends …”

Black’s wand arm rose, but Lupin-Black seized him around the wrist, gave him a warning look, then tunred again to Pettigrew, his voice light and casual.

“We’ve been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Lily died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed—“

“Remus,” Pettigrew gasped, and Harry could see beads of seat breaking out over his pasty face, “you can’t believe them—I was never their Secret Keeper—S-Sirius was—“

“Lair!” Both Sirius and James roared.

Pettigrew flinched and looked at James. “J-James, surely you don’t mean this! H-He did it! Yes, Sirius did! His family is full of dark wizards. … Surely you can s-see that—that he was a spy for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!”

“Me a spy for Voldemort!?” Sirius yelled.

Pettigrew flinched as though Black had brandished a whip at him.

“What, scared to hear your old master’s name?” Black said. “I don’t blame you, Peter. His lot aren’t very happy with you, are they?”

“Don’t know what you mean, Sirius—“ Pettigrew muttered, his breathing faster than ever. His whole face was shining with sweat now.

“So you’re the rat,” Draco said looking at Pettigrew. “My father mentioned he remembered Death Eaters muttering something about a rat when he was under the Imperius Curse.”

Sirius snickered coldly at the thought of Malfoy under the Imperius Curse. Pettigrew looked at Draco and ran up to him. “Y-You must be a Malfoy,” he said, clutching Draco’s robes. “Your father is an evil man; h-he lied about that! Just as he lies about everything!”

“Don’t touch me, you filthy thing!” Draco said, forcing Pettigrew off of his body as he shot the man a sharp, cold look that even sent a shiver up Harry’s spine.

“We’ve heard enough,” Sirius said. He looked towards his husband, “Shall we kill him together Remus?”

“Yes, I think so,” Lupin-Black said grimly. They looked over to James, who was just staring gravely at Pettigrew. “James?”

“Do it,” James said.

“No!”

Pettigrew had fallen to his knees at James’s death sentence. He shuffled forward on his knees, groveling, his hands clasped in front of him as though praying. “Sirius—it’s me …it’s Peter …your friend…you wouldn’t…”

Black kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled.

“M robes are filthy enough without you touching them,” he said.

Pettigrew scrambled to Ron. “Ron…haven’t I been a good friend… a good pet? You won’t let them kill me, Ron, will you …you’re on my side, aren’t you?”

But Ron was staring at Pettigrew with the utmost revulsion.

“I let you sleep in my _bed!_ ” he said.

“Kind boy… kind master…”Pettigrew crawled toward Ron, “you won’t let them do it. …I was your rat. …I was a good pet. …”

“If you made a better rat than a human, it’s not much to boast about, Peter,” Black said harshly. Ron, going still paler with pain, wrenched his broken leg out of Pettigrew’s reach. Pettigrew turned on his knees, staggered forward, and seized the hem of Hermione’s robes.

“Sweet girl… clever girl… you—you won’t let them. …Help me. …”

Hermione pulled her robes out of Pettigrew’s clutching hands and backed away against the wall, looking horrified.

Pettigrew knelt, trembling uncontrollably, and turned his head slowly towards Draco. “Young Malfoy. … Kind boy… you wouldn’t—“

Draco took a step back and spat on the ground in front of Pettigrew. Pettigrew turned towards Harry, who was unconsciously holding Draco’s hand, and said, “Harry… Harry…you look just like your father … just like him… but you have your mother’s eyes…”

“DON’T YOU DARE TALK TO MY SON! HOW DARE YOU EVEN THINK OF FACING HIM!” James roared. “HOW ARE YOU MENTION HIS MOTHER IN FRONT OF HIM!”

“Harry,” Pettigrew whispered, shuffling toward him, hands out-stretched. “Harry, Lily wouldn’t have wanted me killed. …Lily would have understood Harry, she would have shown me mercy. …”

James and Sirius strode forward, seized Pettigrew’s shoulders, and threw him backward onto the floor. “Don’t talk to my son,” James snarled at him. Pettigrew sat there, twitching with terror, staring up at them.

“You sold us out to Voldemort,” James said “Admit it!”

“James… Sirius, what could I have done? THe Dark Lord …you have no idea…he has weapons you can’t imagine. …I was scared, Sirius—James! I was never brave like you two and Remus. I never meant it to happen. …He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me—“

“DON’T YOU DARE LIE TO ME!” James bellowed.

“YOU’D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!” Sirius roared.

“He—he was taking over everywhere!” Pettigrew gasped. “Wh—what was there to be gained by refusing him? James, he would have killed me!”

“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” James yelled. “DIED RATHER THEN BETRAY ME! BETRAY MY WIFE! DIED FOR YOUR FRIENDS AS WE WOULD HAVE DIED FOR YOU!”

James looked back towards Harry and said, “Harry turn around. I don’t want you to see this.”

“Dad—“

“Harry do this! Please!” James said. Harry saw that his father was shaking, his arm trembling as he aimed his wand at Pettigrew.

“You can’t kill him!” Harry said.

“Harry, listen, this piece of garbage is the reason you grew up without a mother,” James said. “He killed my best friend!”

“But you just can’t kill him Dad!” Harry said. “We’ll—We’ll take him to the castle. We’ll hand him over to the dementors. …He can go to Azkaban … but don’t kill him.”

“Harry!” Pettigrew gasped and he flung his arms around Harry’s knees. “You—thank you—it’s more than I deserve—thank you—“

“Get off me,”

“Don’t touch him!” Draco and Harry said at the same time, throwing Pettigrew’s hands off Harry in disgust. “I’m not doing this for you,” Harry said. “I just don’t want my dad to become a murderer. And I’m sure Professor Lupin-Black’s son wants the same.”

No one moved or made a sound except Pettigrew, whose breath was coming in wheezes as he clutched his chest. James looked at his two friends, and they each lowered their wand. “Okay,” James said. “You’re right Harry.”

He took a step closer to Pettigrew, “If you can move out of the way, Harry?”

Harry hesitated.

“I’m just going to tie him up,” his dad said. “We don’t want him running away from us.”

Harry nodded and stepped to the side with Draco. Thin cords shot from James’s wand and next moment, Pettigrew was wriggling on the floor, bound and gagged.

“But if you transform, Peter,” Black growled, his own wand pointed at Pettigrew too, “we will kill you. You agree Harry?”

Harry looked down at the pitiful figure on the floor and nodded so that Pettigrew could see him.

“Right,” Lupin-Black said suddenly businesslike. “Ron, I can’t mend bones nearly as well as Madam Pomfrey, so I think it’s best if we just strap your leg up until we can get you to the hospital wing.”

“Let Harry try,” James said. “The boy still mends me up from dangerous Auror missions.”

“You were just bleeding, not broken,” Harry muttered. “I only know the muggle ways.”

“Then, let’s just strap him up,” Lupin-Black repeated. He hurried over to Ron, bent down, tapped Ron’s leg with his wand, and muttered, “ _Ferula._ ” Bandages spun up Ron’s leg strapping it tightly to a splint. Lupin-Black helped him to his feet; Ron put his weight gingerly on the leg and didn’t wince.

“That’s better,” he said. “Thanks.”

“Two of us should be chained to this,” Black said, nudging Pettigrew with his toe. “Just to make sure.”

“I’ll do it,” Lupin-Black said.

“And me,” Ron said savagely, limping forward.

Black conjured heavy manacles from thin air; soon Pettigrew was upright again, left arm chained to Lupin-Black’s right, right arm to Ron’s left. Ron’s face was set. He seemed to have taken Scabbers’s true identity as a personal insult. Crookshanks leapt lightly off the bed and led the way out of the room, his bottlebrush tail held jauntily high.

“Harry, Mal—Draco, wait,” James said as the others left the room. “We need to talk.”

Harry stopped and looked at his father. James stood awkwardly at the door, blocking the way out. “Yeah dad?” Harry asked.

“I um… I want to apologize,” James said. “For Eater break. What I said… it’s unforgivable. I’m sorry for saying such a thing to my own son. Thing is… those words weren’t mine. They were your grandparents’ words. They used to say that to me when I was living with them, especially… after they caught me snogging a boy. They called me a disgrace and I… I shouldn’t have called you that. I’m so sorry Harry. If there’s anything that I could do for you to forgive me, I’ll do it.”

Harry didn’t say anything. He was just staring at the floor near his father’s feet as he listened to him. The room filled with a tense silence as Harry thought of what to say. “It hurt me dad,” he said. “A lot. … but I think I can forgive you.”

“Thank you Harry,” James smiled. “Now,” he said his voice more pleasant like as he looked between Harry and Draco. “I wish we could have met in different terms, and I’ve learned this from Harry, but we should probably get this over with. “Hello Draco Malfoy, I am Harry’s father, James.”

“Hello Mr. Potter,” Draco said, politely shaking James’s hand. He flinched a little when he felt James squeeze his hand a bit too roughly at he looked at the two of them. “Some rules,” he said. “I know you are too young for this, way too young for any of this. But all I want to see is hand holding. Light pecks on the cheeks are okay, but Harry if I hear or see you and Mr. Malfoy doing anything more serious, then there will be consequences. Do you understand me, Draco Malfoy?”

“Yes Sir,” Draco said. Harry noticed that Draco was looking a bit paler than usual as he stared up at James Potter, Auror. James gave a serious, threatening grin and let go of Draco’s hand. “Good. Now, Harry, I need to ask you, have you two told each other you love each other?”

“N-No dad!” Harry blushed, confused where this serious change of mood came from.

“Good. Thirteen is too young to say those words,” James said. “Maybe when you are both sixteen.”

“And when did you say you loved mum?” Harry challenged.

“When we were both nineteen and dating for two years,” James countered. “Now Draco, you are welcomed to our home anytime. Just give me two days warning.”

“Y-Yes sir,” Draco said. James nodded, patted Draco’s back and pulled Harry in an affectionate hug. “I’m glad that you’re not hurt, Harry. Now let’s go join the others.”

The boys agreed and made their way out of the Shrieking Shack, quickly catching up with the rest of the group as they walked through the tunnel, led by Crookshanks. James and Sirius talked of missed times, both men keeping a watchful eye on Pettigrew as they walked. “You know, you and Harry should visit us during the summer,” Sirius said. “I’m sure Orion would love to meet Harry.”

“I don’t know,” James said. “Molly and I were talking of letting Harry stay at the Burrow for most of the summer. Kingsley’s having me go to ruddy Albania for something.”

“He’s sending you where?” Harry asked.

“Albania,” James said, looking back at his son. “Strange too, last time I was sent out country was years ago. I guess they found something important there. I’ll be leaving a month after Hogwarts end.”

“Then, visit us during that month,” Sirius said. “Come on Prongsly, we have so much to catch up about!”

“Alright,” James shrugged. “I’ll see if I can let Harry outside for one day.” He chuckled.

They didn’t talk again until they’ve left the tunnel. Crookshanks first, he had evidently pressed his paw to the knot on the trunk, because Lupin-Black, Pettigrew, and Ron clambered upward without any sound of savaging branches.

Black exited next, followed by Hermione, James waiting for Harry and Draco to leave before climbing after them.

The grounds were very dark now; the only light came from the distant windows of the castle. Without a word, they set off. Pettigrew was still wheezing and occasionally whimpering. Harry’s mind was buzzing as he and Draco held hands. His talk with his father seemed to have lifted an unknown weight from both of their shoulders as the two Potters walked.

A cloud shifted. There were suddenly dim shadows on the ground. Their party was bathed in moonlight. Black and James froze. James threw out one arm to make Harry, Draco, and Hermione stop.

Harry could see Lupin-Black’s silhouette. He had gone rigid. Then his limbs began to shake.

“Did you take the potion?” Black cried out. “Remus, did you take the potion?”

“Run,” James whispered. “Run. Now.”

But Harry couldn’t run. Ron was chained to Pettigrew and Lupin-Black. He leapt forward, but his father caught him around the chest and threw him back.

“Leave it to us—Run!”

There was a terrible snarling noise. Lupin-Black’s head was lengthening. So was his body. His shoulders were hunching. Hair was sprouting visibly on his face and hands, which were curling into clawed paws.

As the werewolf reared, snapping its long jaws, James disappeared from Harry’s side. He had transformed, as did Sirius. An enormous bearlike dog bounded forward, as well as a tall red stag. As the werewolf wrenched itself free of the manacle binding it, the dog seized it about the neck and pulled it backward, away from Ron and Pettigrew. The stag pushed into them as well, forcing the two further away as the two were locked, jaw to jaw, claws ripping at each other—

Harry stood, transfixed by the sight, too intent upon the battle to notice anything else. It was Hermione’s screams that alerted him—

Pettigrew had dived for Lupin-Black’s dropped wand. Ron, unsteady on his bandaged leg, fell. There was a bang, a burst of light—and Ron lay mothionless on the ground. Another bang—Crookshanks flew into the air and back to the earth in a heap.

“Expelliarmus!” Two voices yelled, Harry and Draco’s wands pointed at Pettigrew. Lupin-Black’s wand flew high into the air and out of sight. “Don’t move!” Draco yelled.

Too late. Pettigrew transformed. The last Harry saw of the rat, his tail whipped through the manacle and he went scurrying into the grass.

There was a howl, a high piercing sound, and a rumbling growl; Harry turned to see the werewolf taking flight; it was galloping into the forest—

“Dad!” Harry yelled.

His father was bleeding, as well as Sirius. There was blood coating the stag’s fur, as well as gushing from the black fur of the enormous dog. Both stumbled to their feet, but fell again as they walked away from the group.

Harry ran after them as Draco and Hermione ran towards Ron. Harry saw his father and Black tumble down to the lake shore. “Dad!” he yelled again, chasing after them. He pelted towards the lakeshore and saw his father and Sirius laying down, human again. His father could barely stand, and Harry could hear them moaning in pain and despair.

“ _Noo… not Harry… Please not Harry…”_ James moaned in fear as he struggled to get on all fours.

And then Harry saw them. Dementors, at least two hundred of them, gliding in a black mass around the lake toward them. He spun around, the familiar, icy cold penetrating his insides, fog staring to obscure his vision; more were appearing out of the darkness on every side; they were encircling them.

“Think of something happy,” he muttered to himself raising his wand, blinking furiously as he try and clear his vision, shaking his head to get rid of the fain screaming that had started inside it.

He forced himself to think of himself with his father, and Draco under the same roof. “ _Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!_ ”

His father gave a shutter and started crying out for Harry again, his skin turning paler than death.

_They’re all going to live. They’re going to live, and we are going to visit them this summer._

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ Hermione! Draco! Help me! _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

He looked around, but nobody came.

The dementors were closing in, barely ten feet from them. James was screaming now, yelling about Harry’s and Lily’s dead bodies. “I’M SORRY! I COULDN’T HAVE DONE ANYTHING! I’M SORRY!”

 _“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”_ Harry yelled, trying to blot the screaming from his ears. _“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”_

A thin wisp of silver escaped his wand and hovered like mist before him.

“ _Expecto—expecto—“_

Harry felt his knees hit the cold grass. Fog was clouding his eyes. With a huge effort, he fought to remember any happy thought he could think of. “ _Expecto patronum!_ ” he gasped.

 

“Harry! Harry please wake up!” a voice called from beyond the darkness. Light filtered through Harry’s vision. He was no longer at the lakeside. He was no longer outside of Hogwarts. He was still wearing his tattered, dirty clothing, but he was laying in a bed. “Harry! Oh thank God!” the same voice said before a weight put on him.

Harry looked down and saw the blurry form of Draco holding onto him. “D-Draco? What happened?” Harry asked. “Where are we?”

Draco looked up and frowned. He helped Harry get his glasses on, and he looked around. They were in the hospital wing. “Harry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Hang on, where’s Dad? Sirius? Professor Lupin-Black?” Harry asked as he looked around. He could only see him and Draco, the curtains were drawn around them.

“I’m so sorry Harry,” Draco said, Harry looked and saw tears welling in his eyes. “It… it was an accident. Dumbledore is very pissed at the Minister.”

“Draco? Draco what happened?” Harry asked, fear swelling inside him as he looked at his boyfriend’s sad, scared face. “Draco? Where is my dad?”

“He’s… they’ve been…I’m sorry Harry, but your dad and Black received the Dementor’s Kiss.”


	17. Harry's Patronus

Chapter 17

Harry’s Patronus

“No, they can’t be!” Harry cried out. “Draco, please tell me—“

The doors to the Hospital Wing burst open, and Harry heard Dumbledore’s voice, yelling, as multiple sets of feet walked into the wing.

“I have told you multiple times Cornelius that Dementors are terrible creatures! Now look what they have done!” Dumbledore roared.

“Yes, yes I see that an unfortunately accident had occurred, but—“

“Accident? You call the Dementors taking two wizards’ souls accidents?” Dumbledore demanded.

“Well, Dementors are dark creatures, Headmaster, I’m sure even you could remember that,” the voice of Lucius Malfoy drawled. “They were simply acting on instinct, they were hungry from the lack of meals they were being fed. Besides, we should be lucky. The two victims were adults who were trespassing, not students. Not a bit loss at all.”

“Really Lucius, now is not the time,” the Minister said meekly. “One of them is your co-worker, James Potter.”

“We weren’t on same terms,” Lucius said.

Angry tears threatened to fall from Harry’s eyes as he pushed past Draco and away from his bed. “Hey!” He yelled. The three adults turned around to see Harry. Before they could react, Harry had his wand out and aimed at Lucius. “Don’t you dare talk about my dad like that!” he yelled. Anger leading his actions, Harry whipped his wand and a golden light jetted out of it. Dumbledore and the Minister watched, shocked, but Lucius just smirked and produced a Shield Charm with his wand.

“Honestly Dumbledore, if this is how his son treats his elders, there must be something troubling about James’s parenting method,” Lucius said calmly.

Harry glared at him and began to cast another spell at the man who insulted his father.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said warningly, giving him stern, yet sympathetic eyes. Draco came out from Harry’s bed and stood beside him, holding his hand.

“Ahh umm Mr. Potter…” Cornelius said awkwardly, holding his bowler hat in his hands. “So sorry about what happened. …Terrible accident, really. Horrible. I, I uh don’t know what to say about this. Terrible accident…”

“This was your mostly fault Minister,” Hermione’s voice piped up. “Your proposal for having dementors around as a protection against Dark Wizards was always rocky, and kept avoiding the unpredictability of dementors in an open space, as well as the very nature of Dementors, a creature that sucks all happiness and positivity from any creature it nears.”

The Minister of Magic turned his attention to Hermione and angrily said, “I do not need the opinion of a teenage witch, thank you very much!”

“It seems that they have somehow been confounded. It must have been that other male who did it,” Lucius said. “He looked a suspicious type to me. Especially considering his… marriage.”

“Yes, well… we will naturally look into that, Lucius,” the Minister said.

Dumbledore still didn’t look happy. “Minister, I believe we should continue this elsewhere. Lucius, if you would bring him to my office.”

Lucius looked as if he was about to refuse, but instead he just stopped himself and nodded. The two left, Lucius giving Harry a cold, emotionless stare which turned to anger as he noticed him and Draco still holding hands. As soon as the doors closed, Harry and Hermione started talking at once.

“Sir, it was Peter Pettigrew, he’s not dead. Dad and Sirius Black were here to capture him—“

“There was no way this was an accident, please believe us—“

“There has to be a way to save Dad, it’s Pettigrew’s fault that—“

Dumbledore held up his hand and waited for silence. “I have listened to your woes, and now it is time for me to speak.” Harry frowned and looked around the hospital wing. At the end of the room were two curtains drawn closed. Harry didn’t need to look and see to know that was where his father and Sirius are. “I have no power to change what had happened to your father and his friend, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “What we need,” he said slowly, and his light blue eyes moved from Harry, to Draco, to Hermione, “is more _time_.”

“But—“ Hermione began. And then her eyes became very round. “OH!”

“Now, pay attention,” Dumbledore said, speaking very low and very clearly. “If a Kiss occurs, you only have seconds to reverse it. You must get the dementors away from the victim in those seconds. If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight. But remember this, all of you, _you must not be seen_. Miss Granger, you know the law—you know what is at stake. … _You—must—not—be—seen_.”

Harry didn’t have a clue what was going on. Dumbledore had turned on his heel and looked back as he reached the door. “I am going to lock you in. It is—“ he consulted his watch,” five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck.”

“Good luck?” Harry repeated as the door closed behind Dumbledore. “Three turns? What’s he talking about? What are we supposed to do?”

But Hermione was fumbling with the neck of her robes, pulling from beneath them a very long, very fine gold chain.

“Harry, come here,” she said urgently. “Quick!”

Harry moved towards her, completely bewildered. She was holding the chain out. He saw a tiny, sparkling hourglass handing from it.

“Here—“

“Don’t you dare leave me here,” Draco said as he stepped closer to Harry.

“Fine Malfoy, quickly!” Hermione said, not having time to argue. She threw the chain around both their necks too.

“Ready?” she said breathlessly.

“What are we doing?” Harry said, completely lost.

Hermione turned the hourglass over three times.

The dark ward dissolved. Harry had the sensation that he was flying very fast, backward. A blur of colors and shapes rushed past him, his ears were pounding, he tried to yell but couldn’t hear his own voice—

And then he felt solid ground beneath his feet, and everything came into focus again—

He was standing between Hermione and Draco in the deserted entrance hall and a stream of golden sunlight was falling across the paved floor from the open front doors. He looked wildly around at Hermione, the chain of the hourglass cutting into his neck.

“Hermione, what—?”

“In here!” Hermione seized Harry’s arm and dragged him across the hall to the door of a broom closet, Draco running after; she opened it, pushed him inside among the buckets and mops, then slammed the door behind Draco.

“What—how—Hermione, what happened?”

“We went back in time,” Draco whispered, fighting the chain off of his neck.

“Three hours back,” Hermione added.

“But—“

“Shh! Listen! Someone’s coming! I think—I think it might be us!”

Hermione had her ear pressed against the cupboard door as Draco pulled the chain off of Harry. “Footsteps across the hall …yes, I think it’s us going down to Hagrid’s!”

“Are you telling me,” Harry whispered, “that we’re here in this cupboard and we’re out there too?”

“Exactly,” Draco whispered. “The thing Granger got is a Time Turner, though I have no idea how she got it.”

“Professor McGonagall gave it to me on our first day back. It’s how I’ve been getting to all my lessons,” Hermione whispered. “…We’re out of the doorway. …Harry, I don’t understand what Dumbledore wants us to do. Why did he tell us to go back three hours? How’s that going to help Sirius?”

Harry stared at her shadowy face, then turned to Draco.

“I don’t know,” Draco said. “Don’t expect me to answer all your problems, Harry.”

“There must be something that happened around now he wants us to change,” he said slowly. “What happened? We were walking down to Hagrid’s three hours ago. …”

Draco hit his forehead. “The execution,” he said simply. “Remember? I was waiting for you here so I could… help you after that hippogriff died.”

Hermione gave a small gasp. “That must be what Dumbledore wanted! Dumbledore just said we could save more than one innocent life—Harry, we’re going to rescue Buckbeak! Though, I still don’t understand how that will help…”

“I think I do,” Harry said. “He told us it’ll take a few seconds if a Kiss was performed. Buckbeak could help us during those seconds!”

From what Harry could see of Hermione’s face, she looked terrified.

“If we managed that without being seen, it’ll be a miracle!”

“Well, we’ve got to try, haven’t we?” Harry said. He stood up and pressed his ear against the door.

“Doesn’t sound like anyone’s there. …Come on, let’s go. …” Harry pushed open the closet door. The entrance hall was deserted. As quietly and quickly as they could, the three darted out of the closet and down the stone steps. The shadows were already lengthening, the tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest gilded once more with gold.

“Wait, what about Malfoy?” Hermione asked, looking back at him. “Where were you during this time?”

“In the Slytherin common room with Zabini,” Draco whispered back. “I didn’t leave till half an hour after the execution. When I saw Harry, I came running.”

“Will you two be quiet?” Harry whispered back, “We’re almost at Hagrid’s!”

“Go around the greenhouses!” Hermione said breathlessly. “We need to keep out of sight of Hagrid’s front door, or we’ll see us!”

Still working out what Hermione meant, Harry set off at a sprint, Hermione behind him and Draco keeping up. They tore across the pumpkin patch to the greenhouses, paused for a moment behind them, then set off again, fast as they could, skirting around the Whomping Willow, tearing toward the shelter of the forest. …

Safe in the shadows of the trees, Harry turned around; seconds later, Hermione arrived beside him, panting.

“Right,” she gasped. “We need to sneak over to Hagrid’s. …Keep out of sight, guys. …”

They made their way silently through the trees, keeping to the very edge of the forest. Then, as they glimpsed the front of Hagrid’s house, they heard a knock upon his door. They moved quickly behind a wide oak trunk and peered out from either side. Hagrid had appeared in his doorway, shaking and white, looking around to see who had knocked. And harry heard his own voice.

“It’s us. We’re wearing the Invisibility Cloak. Let us in and we can take it off.”

“You shouldn’ve come!” Hagrid whispered. He stood back, then shut the door quickly.

“This is the weirdest thing we’ve ever done,” Harry said fervently. “Does my voice actually sound like that?”

“Yes, now let’s get the damn hippogriff,” Draco whispered back.

The three crept through the trees until they saw the nervous hippogriff, tethered to the fence around Hagrid’s pumpkin patch.

“Now?” Harry whispered.

“No!” Hermione said. “If we still him now, those Committee people will think Hagrid set him free! We’ve got to wait until they’ve seen he’s tied outside!”

“And how long will that take Granger?” Draco whispered. “I say we just take the hippogriff now and get done with it.”

“No, we can’t get him yet,” Hermione said again. They heard a loud breaking noise, followed by a scream. “There’s me finding Scabbers,” Hermione whispered.

“Hermione, what I just—“

“No Harry,” Draco said. “Remember what Granger said? You can’t be seen.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Harry whispered.

“You were going to suggest that you run in there and grab the rat,” Draco said. “Which will get either you or past self killed. Now stay here like a good Gryffindor.”

Harry just gave Draco a cold, sharp glare but stood his place. Moments later, they saw the distant frond doors of the castle opening, and Dumbledore, Fudge, and Macnair the executioner coming down the steps. Soon enough, the back door to Hagrid’s cabin opened, and Harry watched himself, Hermione, and Ron walking out of it with Hagrid. It was, without a doubt, the strangest sensation of his life, standing behind the tree, and watching himself in the pumpkin patch.

Draco pulled Harry and Hermione away from the trees as their counterparts threw the cloak over themselves and left. There was a knock on Hagrid’s front door. The execution party had arrived. Hagrid turned around and headed back into his cabin, leaving the back door ajar.

“Where’s the beast?” came the could voice of Macnair.

“Out—outside,” Hagrid croaked.

Harry pulled his head out of sight as Macnair’s face appeared at Hagrid’s window, staring out at Buckbeak. Then they heard Fudge.

“We—er—have to read you the official notice of execution, Hagrid. I’ll make it quick. And then you and Macnair need to sign it. Macnair, you’re supposed to listen too, that’s procedure—“

Macnair’s face vanished from the window. It was now or never.

“Wait here,” Harry said to Hermione and Draco. “I’ll do it.”

“Feel free,” Draco said, looking at the hippogriff with apprehension.

As Fudge’s voice started again, Harry darted out from behind his tree, vaulted the fence into the pumpkin patch, and approached Buckbeak. Careful not to blink, Harry bowed and stared into Buckbeak’s orange eyes. Buckbeak sank to his scaly knees and then stood up again. Harry began to fumble with the knotted rope tying Buckbeak to the fence.

“Come on,” Harry murmured, “come on, we’re going to help you. Quietly …quietly…”

Harry threw all his weight onto the rope, but Buckbeak had dug in his front feet.

“Well, let’s get this over with,” said the reedy voice of the Committee member from inside Hagrid’s cabin. “Hagrid, perhaps it will be better if you stay inside—“

“No, I—I wan’ ter be with him. …I don’ wan’ him ter be alone—“

Footsteps echoed from within the cabin.

“ _Buckbeak, move!_ ” Harry hissed. He tugged harder on the rope around Buckbeak’s neck. The hippogriff began to walk, rustling its wings irritably. Harry heard footsteps behind him and turned quickly to see Draco coming out to help him. The two pulled, and they were about six feet away from the forest, still in plain view of Hagrid’s back door.

“One moment please, Macnair,” came Dumbledore’s voice. “You need to sign too.” The footsteps stopped. Harry and Draco heaved on the rope. Buckbeak snapped his beak and walked a little faster.

Hermione’s white face was sticking out from behind a tree.

“Guys, hurry!” she mouthed.

Harry could still hear Dumbledore’s voice, talking from within the cabin. He and Draco gave the rope a final wrench, Buckbeak broke into a grudging trot. They had reached the trees. …

“Quick! Quick!” Hermione said, darting out from behind her tree, seizing the rope too and adding her weight to make Buckbeak move faster.

“Stop!” Harry whispered when they were out of sight from Hagrid’s cabin. “They might hear us—“

Hagrid’s back door opened with a bang. The three students and Buckbeak stood quite still; even the hippogriff seemed to be listening intently.

“Where is it?” said the voice of the Committee member. “Where is the beast?”

“It was tied here!” The executioner said furiously. “I saw it! Just here!”

“How extraordinary,” Dumbledore said. “There was a note of amusement in his voice.

“Beaky!” Hagrid said huskily. There was a swishing noise, and the thud of an axe. The executioner seemed to have swung it into the fence in anger.

“We have to search immediately!” Fudge began. “Search the grounds—“

“Search the skies, if you will,” Dumbledore said amused. “Hagrid, I could do with a cup of tea. Or a large brandy.”

“O’—o’ course, Professor,” Hagrid said, who sounded weak with happiness. “Come in, come in. …”

Harry and Hermione listened closely. They heard footsteps, the soft cursing of the executioner, the snap of the door, and then silence once more.

“Now what?” Harry whispered, looking around. He turned to see Buckbeak away from them, but instead staring sharply at Draco, who was returning the glare. “Draco?” he whispered.

Draco’s brow was sweating as he and Buckbeak kept staring at each other, angry orange meeting steely silver. Buckbeak’s eyes sharpened as he took a step forward.

“Harry! They might hear him,” Hermione whispered.

Harry couldn’t move, he didn’t know what to do as the hippogriff and his boyfriend continued to stare. It looked as if Buckbeak, after his failed attempted of hurting Draco, was about to try again. But then, before anyone could move, Draco opened his mouth and whispered, “Sorry.”

Buckbeak continued to glare at Draco, but stayed quiet. The two continued to stare, one too scared to move and the other just staring. Then, finally, after a tense silence Buckbeak looked away, busying himself with something else. Both Draco and Harry breathed a breath they didn’t know they were holding and looked at Hermione.

“What now?” Draco asked.

“We’ll have to hide here,” Hermione said, who looked very shaken. “We need to wait until they’ve gone back to the castle. Then we can move.”

“We might as well wait by the Whomping Willow,” Harry said. “That way we know when we’ve gone in.”

“Good idea,” Draco nodded. The three moved quietly through the forest’s edge, hiding behind the trees as they slowly made their way to the Whomping Willow. Darkness was falling thickly around them, until they were hidden behind a clump of trees through which they could make out the Willow.

“There’s Ron,” Harry said suddenly.

They watched as Ron chased after Scabbers, as two other figures materialize out of nowhere. They ran, before a huge black dog jump out of nowhere and latched onto Ron. “There’s Sirius!” Harry said.

“This is so weird…” Harry said as he watched himself getting struck by a branch from the Whomping Willow.

“There I am,” Draco pointed out as a fourth figure came running towards the Whomping Willow. The Whomping Willow was creaking and lashing out with its lower branches; they could see themselves darting here and there, trying to reach the trunk. And then the tree froze.

“That was Crookshanks pressing the knot,” Hermione said.

“And there we go. …” Harry muttered. “We’re in.”

Seconds later, the tree began to move again. They waited, and after a few moments, they saw the castle door open again and two figures came running out. “Dad…” Harry said. He began to move, but both Hermione and Draco stopped him.

“What are you doing?” Hermione whispered.

“I need to warn him,” Harry said urgently. “I need to—I need to tell him about the Dementors!”

“Harry, you can’t,” Draco said. “We can’t be seen! Look, he’ll be alright, that’s why we’re here.”

“I need to tell him, Draco let go!” Harry struggled against Draco’s hold. “Dad—Mphh” Draco placed his hand on Harry’s mouth and used all his strength to pull Harry back.

“It’s too late, they’re inside,” Hermione pointed out, Harry turned to see the fleeing figures of his dad and Professor Lupin-Black entering the tunnel. “We’re all in,” Hermione sighed.

“Dad!” Harry struggled. With a final struggle, he just collapsed against Draco. “Now what?” he asked Hermione.

“Now, we wait,” Hermione said. She tied Buckbeak’s rope to a tree and looked at Harry. “Harry, there’s something that’s been bothering me. Why didn’t the dementors get you?”

“I don’t know,” Harry frowned. “I remember being surrounded by the dementors, trying to cast the Patronus, but I kept failing. The dementors kept coming closer and closer, but I still couldn’t do it, then everything went black and I woke up at the hospital bed.”

Hermione nodded, and sat down. Harry and Draco sat too, and they’ve begun to wait. The three were afraid to talk, not that they were in any mood to do so. All of their attention were fixed solely on the Whomping Willow, waiting for it to stop moving again. Hermione looked back at Harry and Draco, and asked “What did he wanted to talk about? Your dad?”

“He wanted to apologize,” Harry said. “For the way he treated me during the Easter break. …He told Draco and me why he was like that. It seems my grandparents didn’t like guys like me and Draco, and one day they caught dad snogging a boy.”

“Oh,” Hermione frowned. “Must have been tough.”

Harry nodded, and they said no more.

The leaves overhead rustled faintly in the breeze. The moon drifted in and out of sight behind the shifting clouds. Hermione sat with her face turned toward the Willow, waiting.

And then, at last, after over an hour …

“Here we come!” Hermione whispered.

The three stood to their feet. Buckbeak raised his head. They saw Lupin-Black, Ron, and Pettigrew clambering awkwardly out of the hole in the roots. Then came Hermione. Last came out Harry, Draco, his dad, and Sirius. They all began to walk toward the castle.

Harry’s heart was starting to beat very fast. He glanced up at the sky. Any moment now, that cloud was going ot move aside and show the moon. …

“Harry,” Hermione muttered as though she knew exactly what he was thinking, “we’ve got to stay put. We mustn’t be seen. There’s nothing we can do. …”

“So we’re just going to let that damn rat get away?” Draco asked.

“How do you expect to find a rat in the dark?” Hermione snapped. “There’s nothing we can do! We came back to help your dad and Sirius; we’re not supposed to be doing anything else!”

“ _Fine!_ ” Both Harry and Draco said.

The moon slid out from behind its cloud. They saw the tiny figures across the grounds stop. Then they saw movement.

“That’s Lupin-Black,” Hermione whispered.

“Hermione,” Harry said suddenly. “We have to move!”

“We mustn’t I keep telling you—“

“There’s going to be a werewolf coming straight for us Granger!” Draco said.

Hermione gasped.

“Quick!” She moaned, dashing to untie Buckbeak. “Quick! Where are we going to go? Where are we going to hide? The dementors will be coming any moment—“

“Head for the lake!” Harry said. “We can save dad.”

Hermione had no time to argue as Harry started to run off. Draco and Hermione ran after him, Hermione holding onto Buckbeak’s rope as the hippogriff trotted after them. Harry kept staring at the figures as he dashed out of the woods and across the grounds, heading towards the part of the forest that hugged the far side of the lake. He heard Hermione’s voice as she and Draco kept to the trees, but didn’t care. He needed to be at the lake. He needed to save his dad, to stop those dementors. “Harry! What were you thinking?” Hermione gasped when she finally caught up to him. “You could have been seen.”

“Look!” Draco said, pointing at the other side of the lake. There, at the top of the incline, a red stag and huge black dog came tumbling down the hill, the animals turning human when they reached the bottom. They watched as Harry’s figure came running down the hill, and soon Harry felt a familiar icy coldness seize him as the dementors appeared.

“Harry…” Hermione said warningly. They watched the other side of the lake, where tiny glimmers of silver appeared, his own attempts at a Patronus.

“Harry, they’re going to die at this rate,” Hermione said again.

The dementors were starting to surround the other side of the lake, and Harry saw that the silver glimmers stopped.

“Potter!” Draco yelled.

Then, Harry moved. Without thought, without reason, Harry moved towards Buckbeak and jumped on his back. Buckbeak made a noise of protest, shaking his head wildly as the rope jerked out of Hermione’s hands. Harry took out his wand as Buckbeak began running towards the edge of the lake. Buckbeak’s wings expanded, and before he took a step in the water, he took flight, gliding quickly towards the Dementors. “ _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ ” Harry yelled, thinking of his best memory, and ridding off the high that flying on Buckbeak gave him.

And out of the end of his wand burst, not a shapeless cloud of mist, but a blinding, dazzling silver animal. He screwed up his eyes, trying to see what it was. It looked like a horse. It was galloping alongside him and Buckbeak, before heading off towards the dementors, across the black surface of the lake. He saw it lower its head and charge at the swarming dementors. …Now it was galloping around and around the black shapes on the gorund, and the dementors were falling back, scattering, retreating into the darkness. …They were gone.

The Patronus stopped in front of the three collapsed figures. Harry and Buckbeak made it to the other side of the lake. It wasn’t a horse, nor was it a unicorn. It was a stag. It was shining brightly as the moon above. … It lowered its head, and Harry ran towards his father’s body. “Dad! Dad!” he yelled. His father’s body was pale, and bruised badly. It looked as if his soul was already gone. Sirius’ body was the same.

He looked around and saw his own body unconscious. It was strange, looking at his own body from the outside, but he didn’t think about that now. Now, he had to save his father. “Dad, dad…” Harry cried, fighting the tears in his eyes.

The Patronus stepped towards Harry’s father and lowered until it’s head touched James. As soon as the Patronus touched James’s body, light returned to him. His complexion came back, and for a moment Harry heard groaning. James’s brown eyes opened and met Harry’s emerald. “Harry…” he groaned his strength low. “Good job. …” he breathed before collapsing again, still breathing.

Harry smiled as he hugged his father’s unconscious body. He’s back! He’s been saved!

Harry was so busy hugging his father’s body, he didn’t notice his Patronus was doing the same with Sirius’s body. Color returned to Sirius, and the Stag stood between both of them before vanishing.

“Harry!” Draco’s voice cried out.

Harry got up from his father to see Hermione and Draco running after him. “Harry,” Draco panted. “What did you do?”

“It was the Patronus,” Harry said. “Even though The Dementors performed the Kiss, the Patronus still somehow saved them! It just touched them, and their souls were back.”

“But… there’s no cure to a Dementor’s Kiss,” Draco stated. “How could that have happened…”

“I don’t know, but we did it!” Harry smiled. “We did it.”

“Harry, we need to move before someone sees us!” Hermione said. Harry nodded, and the three of them raced away from the lake. Harry looked back, and saw Buckbeak was still standing there, at the edge of the lake. “Buckbeak!” Harry yelled.

But he was too late, for as he turned to run back for Buckbeak, a figure appeared. Draco grabbed the neck of Harry’s clothes and pulled him back into the trees. There they watched as the figure approached Buckbeak. Terrified, they heard Dumbledore’s amused voice saying, “Ahh, and there is the rogue hippogriff. Hagrid will be more than delighted to hear that you are safe, I am sure. Now then…” he took out his wand and three stretchers appeared under the bodies of Harry, Sirius, and James. “I advise you to wait in the forest until our guests are gone,” Dumbledore chuckled. Buckbeak bowed and turned from Dumbledore, retreating into the forest. “I wonder how he’s gotten here,” Dumbledore mused to himself as he turned towards the castle, the three stretchers following him.

“He’s safe too,” Harry breathed a sigh of relief. They waited until Dumbledore was out of sight before thinking of moving again. Hermione checked her watch. “Harry! We have fifteen minutes!” she said, sounding panicked.

The three shared a look before starting to run towards the castle. When they’ve reached the entrance hall, they heard footsteps. Again, they hid in the closet as the footsteps came closer and closer.

“It seems as if the Dementors have performed their duty,” came the voice of Lucius Malfoy.

“Yes, but Lucius, one of those attacked was James Potter!” Fudge said.

“A shame, oh well,” Lucius replied. Their footsteps stopped in front of the entrance hall. “I suppose that Potter boy is now an orphan.”

“Are you suggesting you’ll take care of the boy, Lucius?” Fudge asked. “After all, if what I hear is correct, your son and Harry are very close.”

Lucius tsked, “Of course not Minister,” he said. Harry could hear the anger in his voice. “The boy has… muggle relatives. I am sure they would be more than happy to take him in.”

“Yes… yes, I suppose they’ll have to know too,” Fudge nodded. “Come Lucius, we have better explain this terrible accident to Dumbledore.”

Harry heard the sound of retreating footsteps, and waited until there was silence before he opened the door. He poked his head out, before stepping outside fully, followed by Draco and Hermione. Seething with angry, Harry looked at Draco and said, “No offence, but I hate your father.”

“I understand,” Draco nodded.

“Guys, we only have seven minutes left,” Hermione said in a panicked voice.

The three ran up the staircase, and had to hide again as Peeves came floating down, causing a loud distraction, giggling with glee.

“He’s horrible,” Hermione said.”He’s probably happy that the Dementors got to your dad and Sirius.”

Harry and Draco agreed, but said nothing as they were forced to wait for Peeves to leave. When he was gone, they started running again. “One minute!” Hermione panicked as they turned a corner. They crept along the corridor. “I can hear Dumbledore’s voice!” Hermione said.

The door opened. Dumbledore’s back appeared.

“I am going to lock you in,” they heard him saying. “It is five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck.”

Dumbledore backed out of the room, closed the door, and took out his wand to magically lock it. Panicking, the three ran forward. Dumbledore looked up, and a wide smile appeared under the long silver mustache. “Well?” he said quietly.

“We did it!” Harry said breathlessly. “The Patronus touched them, and they’re saved.”

Dumbledore beamed at them.

“Well done. I think—“ He listened intently for any sound within the hospital wing. “Yes, I think you’ve gone too—get inside—I’ll lock you in—“

Harry, Draco, and Hermione slipped back inside the dormitory. Ron was still laying motionlessly in the end bed, and Harry immediately ran towards his father’s bed to see him. His complexion was normal and even though scratches were covering his body, he looked as if he was just sleeping.

Draco and Hermione crept to their own beds as Madam Pomfrey came striding back out of her office. “Did I hear the headmaster leaving? Am I allowed to look after my patients now?”

She was in a very bad mood, but soften slightly as she pulled Harry from James’s bed. The three took their pieces of chocolates quietly, Harry hardly able to swallow them as he kept looking at his father’s bed.

And then, around his fourth piece of chocolate, they heard a rustling sound. Harry stared at his father’s bed as James sat up, looking around groggily. When Madam Pomfrey saw him, she shrieked as if seeing the dead come back from life. Sirius rose as well, and after she finished her screaming, Madam Pomfrey’s mood became more sour as she busied herself inspecting every inch of James and Sirius, forcing them to answer questions to make sure that they were actually back.

“The Headmaster needs to know about this at once!” she said when she finished, scurrying out of the Hospital Wing like a madwoman.

James and Sirius just looked at each other and started to laugh.


	18. Love(?) Consummated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Harry and Draco will be having sex! If you don't want to read that part, skip from where it says "The Dormitories should be empty" to "Harry nodded and watched as Draco slipped off of him." I was sure I've put this warning, oh well.

Chapter 18

Love(?) Consummated

Harry, Draco, Hermione, and Ron left the hospital noon the next day. Harry’s dad and Sirius left during the morning after hearing several apologies from the Minister for the incident. James promised to see Harry at the station when school finishes, and told Draco to watch out for him. Harry found the entire school to be deserted. The sweltering heat and end of the exams meant that everyone was taking full advantage of another Hogsmeade visit. Neither Ron nor Hermione felt like going, however, so they and Harry wandered onto the grounds, Draco making sure that Harry never walked out of his hand. Sitting near the lake, watching the giant squid waving its tentacles lazily above the water, Harry lost the thread of the conversation as he laid down on Draco’s lap.

A shadow fell across them and they looked up to see a very bleary-eyed Hagrid, mopping his sweaty face with one of his tablecloth-sized handkerchiefs and beaming down at them. “Guess what?” he said.

“What?” they said, pretending to look curious.

“Beaky! He escaped! He’s free! Bin celebratin’ all night!”

“That’s wonderful!” Hermione said, giving Ron a reproving look because he looked as though he was close to laughing.

“Yeah …can’t’ve tied him up properly,” Hagrid said, gazing happily out over the grounds. “I was worried this mornin’, mind, after Dumbledore brought Beaky back …thought he mighta met Professor Lupin-Black on the grounds, but Lupin says he never ate anythin’ las’ night. …”

“What?” Harry said quickly, shooting up from Draco’s lap.

“Blimey, haven’ yeh heard?” Hagrid said, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. “Er—Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin’. …Thought everyone’d know by now …Professor Lupin’s a werewolf, see. An’ he was loose on the grounds las’ night. …He’s packin’ now, o’ course.”

“he’s packing?” Harry said, alarmed. “Why?”

“Leavin’ isn’ he?” Hagrid said, looking surprised that Harry had to ask. “Resigned firs’ thing this mornin’. Says he can’t risk it happenin’ again.”

Harry scrambled to his feet, Draco following.

“I’m going ot go see him,” he told Ron and Hermione.

“But if he’s resigned—“

“—doesn’t sound like there’s anything we can do—“

“I don’t care. I still want to see him. I’ll meet you back here.”

Lupin-Black’s office door was open. He had already packed most of his things. The grindylow’s empty tank stood next to his battered old suitcase, which was open and nearly full. Lupin-Black was bending over something on his desk and looked up only when Harry knocked on the door.

“I saw you two coming,” Lupin-Black said, smiling. He pointed to the parchment he had been poring over. It was the Marauder’s Map.

“We just saw Hagrid,” Harry said.

“You’re resigning?” Draco asked.

Lupin-Black nodded. “I’m afraid I am,” he said. He started opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents.

“ _Why_?”Harry asked.

Lupin crossed to the door and closed it behind the couple.

“Severus… _accidently_ let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast,” Lupin-Black said.

“You’re not leaving just because of that!” Harry said.

Lupin-Black smiled wryly.

“This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents. …They will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you. …That must never happen again.”

“People,” Draco said to Harry, “People really hate werewolves Harry. We think… they think, that werewolves are dangerous creatures. You remember Snape’s lessons right?”

“Yeah but… Professor Lupin-Black’s the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had!” Harry said. “Don’t go!” he added, looking at Lupin-Black.

He shook his head and didn’t speak. He carried on emptying his drawers. Then, while harry was trying to think of a good argument to make him stay, Lupin said, “From what the headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Harry. If I’m proud of anything I’ve done this year, it’s how much you’ve learned. …Tell me about your Patronus.”

“How d’you know about that?” Harry asked, distracted.

“What else could have driven the dementors back?”

Harry told Lupin what had happen. When he’d finished Lupin was smiling again. “Just like your father,” he said. “Your Patronus is your father, like last night he always transformed into a stag. That’s why we called him Prongs.”

Lupin threw his last few books into his case, closed the desk drawers, and turned to look at Harry and Draco. “Here—I brought this from the Shrieking Shack last night,” he said, handing Harry back the Invisibility Cloak. “And…” he hesitated, then held out the Marauder’s Map too. “I’m sure your dad would yell at me if I didn’t give this too. Not to mention Sirius too …”

Harry took the map and grinned.

Draco looked at Lupin-Black and said, “You have a son, right? What do you do… during the full moons?”

“If you’re wondering if he’s in risk of being hurt, don’t worry,” Lupin-Black said. “I’ve carried him for nine months, both as a human and a werewolf. The other me knows that Orion is my child.”

“Is he err… you know,” Draco asked.

“Half werewolf? No,” Lupin-Black frowned. “I was so afraid that he was going to be like me. “He is fully human. I don’t know what I would do if he… never mind, you two don’t need to hear this.”

There was a knock on the door. Harry hastily stuffed the Marauder’s Map and the Invisibility Cloak into his pocket.

It was Professor Dumbledore. He didn’t look surprised to see Harry there. Harry, however, was surprised to see a little kid walking after Dumbledore. The kid had ruffled black hair, and looked like a miniature Sirius. “Your carriage is at the gates, Remus,” Dumbledore said, “as well as your escort.”

“Hi Dad!” the child said.

“Thank you headmaster,” Lupin-Black said before smiled at the child. “Hello Orion.”

He boy came up to Lupin-Black and hugged him before looked at Professor Dumbledore. “Professor Dumbledore was telling me all about the castle,” Orion told his dad.

Dumbledore chuckled and said, “He has quite a mind your son. I am sure Hogwarts will be more than happy to have him in our halls next September.”

“Yes, thank you Headmaster,” Lupin-Black said. He picked up his old suitcase and the empty grindlylow tank. “Well—good bye, Harry, Draco,” he said, smiling. “It has been a real pleasure teaching you. I feel sure we’ll meet again sometime. Headmaster, there is no need to see me to the gates, we can manage…”

Harry had the impression that Lupin-Black wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

“Good-bye, then, Remus,” Dumbledore said soberly. Lupin-Black shifted the tank slightly so that he and Dumbledore could shake hands. Then, with a final nod to Harry and Draco and a swift smile, Lupin-Black left the office, Orion leading the way.

Harry sat down in his vacated chair, staring glumly at the floor. He heard the door close and looked up. Dumbledore was still there. “Why so miserable, Harry?” he said quietly. “You should be very proud of yourself after last night. You too, Draco.”

“It didn’t make any difference,” Harry said bitterly. “Pettigrew got away.”

“Didn’t make any difference?” Dumbledore said quietly. “It made all the difference in the world, Harry. You helped uncover the truth. Your father and Sirius are alive, thanks to your help.”

“I know, and I’m happy that he’s safe but—“ Harry remembered Trelawney’s prediction—“Professor Dumbledore—yesterday, when I was having my Divination exam, Professor Trelawney went very—very strange.”

“What do you mean Harry?” Draco asked, looking confused.

“Her voice went all deep and her eyes rolled and she said…she said Voldemort’s servant was going to set out to return to him before midnight. …She said the servant would help him come back to power,” Harry stared up at Dumbledore. “And then she sort of became normal again, and she couldn’t remember anything she’d said. Was it—was she making a real prediction?”

“Do you know, Harry, I think she might have been,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully. “Who’d have thought it? That brings her total of real predictions up to two.  I should offer her a pay raise. …”

“But—“

“Relax Harry,” Draco said. He walked towards Harry’s chair and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. “I know what you’re thinking Harry, and it’s not your fault. _He_ might come back, but it’s not your fault. You saved your dad, and Sirius, and that hippogriff. They would all be gone if it weren’t for you.”

“He’s right Harry,” Dumbledore nodded. “You have done well so far. I could not have asked you to do anything else. Do not worry about what might happen, you deserve to live life carefree.”

“But Pettigrew is going to Voldemort,” Harry said.

“But he’ll owe a debt to you,” Draco said. “I’m sure the Dark Lord does not want a servant who owes a debt to his enemy.” He smiled softly and kissed Harry’s head. “So don’t worry about it, alright?”

“I guess…” Harry said, looking up at Draco. Dumbledore left the office, leaving the two alone.

“I don’t know about you Harry,” Draco said. “But I don’t want to return to our friends right now.”

“I know… when was the last time we’ve been alone together?” Harry asked.

Draco smirked. “I think when you showed me that little show of yours,” he chuckled. “Come on! Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.”

“The dormitories should be empty,” Harry offered. Draco smirked and pulled Harry up. “Come on Potter,” he said. “Let’s find a bed.”

They quickly made their way towards the Slytherin common room. Harry smiled in a secret way as Draco said the password, loud enough for Harry could clearly hear it, and they stepped into the common room. It was empty, but they didn’t care. Giggling like lovebirds, the two started kissing randomly, Harry’s hands always somewhere on Draco’s body. Draco held onto Harry’s tie tightly and pulled him up, making the little lion follow him up the stairs. “Harry—harry,” Draco breathed. “I think you would look great in a green and silver tie.” He chuckled as Harry kissed him again.

Harry just made a grunting noise as they continued up the stairs. When they’ve made it to the third-year dormitory, Draco pushed Harry onto his bed and smirked. Harry moved to touch Draco again, but he shook his head. ‘No Harry, remember your show? I want to see it again.”

Harry blushed, but nodded. He started to strip, slowly revealing his pale, smooth skin inch by inch. Draco just smirked and sat back on Blaise’s bed. Before he knew it, Harry was completely naked on his bed, sprawled on his back as he started to touch himself. His hands slid up and down his body, his nipples hard as he pulled them. “Stop.” Draco commanded.

Harry obeyed and looked at Draco confused. Draco stood up, and sat down next to Harry. He shrugged off his robe and laid it on the bed, pushing Harry’s clothes off and onto the ground. He loosened his tie and put it on Harry, fixing it so that the Slytherin tie lied perfectly center on Harry’s chest, the green and silver contrasting his pale skin brilliantly. Harry looked at Draco a bit confused.

“I want you to wear this,” Draco said. “Not only here, but for the rest of the year, okay? I want to show all those girls and guys that Harry Potter is my boyfriend.”

“Doesn’t you kissing me in the Great Hall already prove that?” Harry chuckled.

Draco laughed as well but shook his head. “This will make it permanent. Like a ring, yeah?”

Harry looked down at the tie, marveling at how well it fitted him. “Like a ring,” he repeated again.

Draco smiled and kissed Harry again, pushing his cub onto the bed as he draped himself over him. Harry moaned, his hands reaching for Draco’s back as he pulled the Slytherin onto him, loving the feeling of Draco’s clothed body on his skin. Draco’s hands moved down towards Harry’s hard cock and gave a tug. Harry’s voice hitched as he thrust towards Draco’s hand.

Draco smirked and pulled back, leaving kisses randomly on Harry’s body before sliding up his bed, taking off his shirt, revealing his pale marble skin. “Well Harry,” he said. “Come on, continue the show,” he said as he took off his pants and shoes, leaving him as naked as his boyfriend.

Harry nodded and blushed as he positioned himself. He stretched out his legs before swinging them into the air, giving Draco perfect view and access to his tight, pink, virgin hole. Draco licked his lips as he watched Harry slowly prepare himself. One arm holding both legs in the air, Harry brought his other hand towards his lips and slowly, meticulously, erotically licked every single digit, pushing one finger into his lips and giving a soft sound as he did so. Harry made sure that Draco could see his tie during every move he made. When his fingers were wet enough, Harry moved his hand away from his lips, his fingers slicken with his spit, and gave his nipples one last squeeze, loving the feeling.

“Someone has a tit fetish,” Draco chuckled. “How does that sound Harry? Me playing with your tits every day, making them grow as big as they can.”

Harry moaned and nodded, moving his fingers to his hole. He inserted his finger and gave a groan as it penetrated his tight ring of muscles. He felt his warm, velvety hole around his finger and started to move it. Draco’s cock was fully hard and Harry watched as Draco started to stroke it. Both boys moaned as Harry added another finger, both of them moving inside of him, loosening himself for Draco.

Draco moved to his knee and took Harry’s legs in his hands. He slung them over his shoulders, and Harry’s hands relaxed at his side, leaving his ass hungry and available. They both smiled at each other, and Draco fixed Harry’s tie as he got into position. “Ready cub?” he asked.

Harry nodded and pushed his butt towards Draco. Draco gripped his cock and positioned it right in front of Harry’s hole. He teased Harry, pushing the head of his cock at Harry’s hole, feeling the hotness on the head of his cock before pulling away. Harry mewled and pushed towards Draco, wanting him inside him. “Wait for it,” Draco chuckled.

Harry made a noise of complaint. Draco positioned his cock again, the head resting on Harry’s hole. “Count of three, I’m going to push in,” Draco said, nervous.

Harry nodded, feeling the same apprehension as his boyfriend. “One,” he breathed.

“Two,” Draco said.

“Three—“

Draco pushed in, not knowing if to stop or not. Harry screamed in incredible pain. Draco panicked. “Harry! Harry are you okay?” he said.

Harry moaned in pain, but nodded. “Y-Yeah,” he said. “Let me just get used to it. You’re… you’re big.”

Draco chuckled and smirked, “Of course I am Harry,” he said. They waited, staying in that same position, chests heaving as Draco tired his best to not move, not wanting to hurt his boyfriend anymore.

“I’m ready,” Harry said after awhile. Draco started to move again, slowly moving out of Harry, groaning in ecstasy of the tight, heated feeling of being inside him. When it was just the cock of his head in, Draco moved again, sliding into his cub until his balls touched Harry’s ass. Harry groaned, his ass still adjusting to the strange sensation. It was rough, hurts, but Harry wanted more, needed more. After a few clumsy, rough trusts Draco and Harry got into a slow rhythm. Their pants synchronized as they pushed towards each other, Draco’s cock going further and further into Harry’s ass.

Harry’s body sheen with sweat, his sun-kissed pale skin glistening under Draco, the Slytherin tie keeping in perfect place between his breast. Harry could help but idle the idea of him being in Slytherin, him working out. He smirked at himself.

“What are you thinking of?” Draco panted between thrusts. Harry shook his head and closed his eyes. “Nothing,” he smiled wryly. Yeah, he’s going to have to talk to his dad about that.

Draco growled at the look Harry was giving him and thrust roughly. He hit something that made Harry see stars, his cock bouncing at attention, cum jumping out of it as he screamed in joy.

“Harry?”

“Again… hit that spot again,” Harry breathed.

Draco nodded and gave another thrust. He hit the same spot and Harry screamed in joy again, more pre-cum coming out of his cock. “Yes! More Draco!”

Getting the idea, Draco gave a cocky smirk as he moved, hitting the same spot with his cock over and over again, his pace slowly quickening. Their gasps and yelps filled the room as Draco took up a fast, savage pace, his hips thrusting against the small perfect ass of his boyfriend. He fell on top of Harry, his legs moving from Draco’s shoulder to around his waist. Draco was right on top of Harry, their eyes connecting as he continued pushing into him. His sweat dripped onto Harry’s face, his glasses, their breaths came out in pants as Draco quickened. “I’m close,” he breathed.

He managed to hold himself with one arm, the other quickly going to Harry’s cock and started jerking it. He wanted them to come at the same time. Harry’s breaths quickly turned into words, chanting Draco’s name over and over again, his eyes closed. “Open them!” Draco growled. “I want to see your eyes Harry!”

Harry’s eyes immediately open and he felt the most strangest thing. It was as if a flood came out of him as he screamed. Pleasure, ecstasy, and everything imaginable overwhelmed him as ropes after ropes of cum jetted from his cock, hitting both his and Draco’s chests. His cum splattered over his face as he screamed Draco’s name. After a couple of more thrusts, Draco was yelling Harry’s name as well, filling Harry’s virgin ass with his seed. He kept on thrusting, his cum overflowing and dripping out of Harry’s ass and onto Draco’s Slytherin robes.

They were breathing deeply, but soon both were smiling and laughing at each other as they lazily kissed. “That was…” Harry said, not knowing how to describe the experience.

“I know,” Draco breathed, smiling at Harry. He looked down at the mess Harry made and said, “Wait here… I’ll get a towel.”

Harry nodded and watched as Draco slipped off of him. He looked down and smiled at his cum-covered self. It felt good, really good. The hot cum that dripped from his ass felt exhilarating, yet a bit gross at the same time. He checked the tie and sighed in relief when he saw it was somehow clean. Draco returned with a wet towel and took his time cleaning Harry, giving lazy kisses as he went, making sure that his ass is completely clean. When he was done, Draco simply dropped the towel off the side of the bed and pulled Harry to him.

He yawned and smiled at his boyfriend. “That was fun,” Draco smiled.

Harry nodded in agreement and looked down at the tie. “I’m starting to like this,” he said. Draco nodded and said, “It fits you Harry. It matches your eyes.”

“It also matches yours,” Harry said, bringing the tie up to Draco’s face. “See?” he chuckled. He tickled Draco’s nose with the tie and Draco laughed, “Stop that Harry,” he said playfully knocking the tie away. He sat up a bit against his pillowed and pulled Harry onto his chest. Harry yawned and allowed Draco to fix the tie on him. “You promise you’re going to keep this on?” Draco asked.

Harry nodded, “Yeah, I promise,” he yawned. “I’m tired… going to sleep.”

“Me too… night Harry,” Draco said. They kissed; Draco gently took Harry’s glasses off, put it on his nightstand, and they both fell asleep on top of Draco’s bed, not even bothering to go under the covers.

Draco woke up the next day to annoying noise. He groaned more in irritation as he opened his eyes. There, around his bed, was the third year Slytherins. Blaise had a knowing smirk on his face as the others just glared at him. “The hell you are staring at?” Draco asked.

Theodore Nott looked the most disgusted. “What the hell is Potter doing in your bed Malfoy? In _our_ dorm?”

“Sleeping,” Draco answered. “And you better hope that he stays sleeping or else I will be very angry at all of you.”

“Potter’s a Gryffindor!” Theo argued. “He shouldn’t be here! Shouldn’t be in your damn bed!”

“And let’s not forget naked,” Blaise said mirthfully.

Draco sent a glare at Blaise, “You have a problem with that?”

“Me no,” Blaise said. “The others though… looks like Crabbe and Goyle are just about ready to tear Harry out of your grasp.

Draco’s attention turned to the two trolls he’s forced to call fellow Slytherins and said, “If you two touch a single hair on Harry, I will have both of your families more ruined then they are.”

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, “Malfoy,” One of them said, Draco didn’t care who, “this is gross.” The other one nodded, both of them having looks of disgust. Draco gave them a sharp look. “He’s a poof! Goyle said, “You’re sleeping with a Gryffindor Poof!”

Draco had his wand out and pointing straight at Goyle before anyone could react. “Say that again,” he growled, his eyes shifting to Harry for only a second. He was still somehow asleep.

Goyle’s eyes moved towards the wand, looking fearfully at it as he and his fellow troll tried to take a step back.

“Alright, I’ll say it,” Theo said, glaring at Draco and the sleeping Harry. “We don’t want you to associate yourself with Potter. Not only is he a dirty half-blood, but he’s a filthy fa—“

“ _Langlock!_ ” Draco said, his wand snapping to Theo. Theo’s mouth shut, his tongue snapping to the top of his mouth. Theo tried to talk, but couldn’t make any comprehensive noises. Draco smirked at himself, silently thanking Professor Snape for teaching him that spell. He gazed at Crabbe and Goyle and asked, “Is there anyone else who objects to Harry being here?” he asked simply.

The two trolls shook their heads. “N-No Malfoy,” Crabbe stuttered. “We don’t but—“

“Nott told the whole common room,” Goyle said. “They’re not happy.”

“I see,” Draco said coldly. He looked at Nott with cold eyes then towards Crabbe and Goyle. “Bring him to the hospital wing… ten minutes before we have to leave.” He looked at Nott and smirked, “If you run fast enough, you might catch the Hogwarts Express home. Though, who knows how hungry you’ll be.”

Draco and Blaise watched as Crabbe and Goyle escorted Theodore Nott out of the room. Blaise looked at Draco and said, “You know we don’t leave for a few days right?” he said.

Draco smirked and nodded. “I know,” he said. “I just won’t let that idiot call my boyfriend that.”

“Where did you even learn that spell?” Blaise asked.

“Professor Snape,” Draco said. “I’ve convinced him to teach me a couple of spells.”

“You uh do know the counter-jinx right?” Blaise asked.

Draco looked at Blaise confused, “Counter-jinx? No I don’t think I know that.”

Blaise laughed. Tears started to roll from his eyes as he laughed. “Draco Malfoy, you are something!” he said.

Draco looked down at Harry and scoffed when he saw Harry was still sleeping. “I must have tired him out last night,” he said.

“That or he’s just a very heavy sleeper,” Blaise said. Draco looked at him and nodded.

“I’m surprise you’re not asking us to cover up Zabini,” Draco mused.

“I’m Italian Malfoy!” Blaise declared. “The nude body is not foreign to me. Though, if you could cover your and Harry’s parts. I don’t want to know how big my friends are.”

“Right,” Draco said. He reached for the sheet and covered his and Harry’s private parts. He turned his attention to Blaise and said, “I have my Gryffindor, where’s yours?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Blaise said, smirking.

“Don’t play dumb,” Draco said. “I know the way you looked at Harry’s friend Weasley.”

Blaise, for the first time in Draco’s life, blushed. “I uhh I’m working on it,” he said.

“Working on it?” Draco chuckled. “Where is the confident Zabini I’ve known for so long?”

“I—I’m confident!” Blaise said a bit too loudly. “It’s just that, well… I know Ron likes guys, I just don’t know if… you know… he realizes it. And if I try to move in too soon—I don’t know what will happen.”

Draco nodded and looked down at Harry. “I’m sure he’ll come around.”

“Right. So, I’m going to go and try to defuse the situation downstairs,” Blaise said, giving Draco and Harry the privacy Draco wanted.

Alone, Draco looked down at Harry. “God Potter, just how heavily you sleep?” he complained half-heartedly. As if to jest him, Harry started to move, grumbling. Draco gave a small laugh as Harry wiped his eyes, looking at Draco. “What you laughing at?” he asked.

“You,” Draco smirked. “And how cute you are sleeping.”

“Sod off,” Harry yawned as Draco kissed his cheek.

“Such dirty language Potter, do I need to clean that mouth of yours?” Draco smirked.

“Yeah, got toothpaste?” Harry asked as he sat up, looking down confused to see he was still wearing Draco’s tie. Memories of last night returned to his mind, and Draco smiled when he saw Harry blush. “Come on,” he said. “I’m sure I do.”

Draco threw the sheet covering their nude bodies off and got out of bed. He helped Harry off and led him towards the bathroom. Harry hung the tie on Draco’s bed as he showered, and soon they were both dressed, Harry wearing his Gryffindor robes, but Draco’s Slytherin tie.

They held hands and walked down out of the dormitory and into the common room. As soon as they stepped into it, the activity in the room stopped. All eyes fell on Harry, indifferent, irritated, and hateful gazes fell upon Harry as Draco walked him deeper into the common room.

Draco looked at each and every Slytherin as they passed, his cold eyes meeting each and every one as they made their way. “Why are you all glaring?” he asked. “Harry has been here once before. He is my boyfriend, he is allowed to be in here if I deem it.”

The Slytherins glanced at each other but did not complain. They just kept their annoyed glares at Harry as he and Draco walked towards the common room exit. Draco stopped him in front of the door and smiled at Harry. “Don’t worry about these idiots,” he said confidently. “They don’t matter.”

“I know Draco, only your opinion matters to me,” Harry said.

Draco looked at Harry and decided to kiss him in front of everyone again. Harry gladly and eagerly kissed him back, any barriers he had shattered after last night. The Slytherins around them gave awkward, or disgusted noises but Harry didn’t care. He was kissing Draco, that’s all that mattered to him. He felt Draco’s hands on his tie and he whispered against his cheek, “Remember our promise Harry.”

Harry nodded and said, “I promise.”

For the rest of the school year, the very short week that passed too quickly for Harry, Harry wore Draco’s tie with pride. The teachers were surprised, rising a curious eyebrow but saying nothing. The Slytherins kept glaring at Harry, as if him wearing the tie was a personal insult against all of their egos. Harry didn’t care. The Gryffindors, however, were curious at first. At the end of the first day, when they were all in the common room Ron asked Harry why he was wearing a Slytherin tie. Harry noticed that he held everyone’s attention, and decided to just drop the ball now instead of letting the rumors ruin his final days.

“Because, my boyfriend Draco,” Harry said loudly enough so everyone could hear, “Gave me this tie and asked me to wear it for the final week. It’s like a promise.”

Everyone accepted his answer, and went on their lives normally. Harry was glad that everyone accepted his answer and went on his business. He looked around the common room, and blushed a vivid scarlet when he saw George Weasley snogging Oliver Wood. He hoped that he and Draco wouldn’t reach that point of their relationship soon.

Harry was glad he wasn’t the only one who was sorry to see Professor Lupin-Black go. The whole of Harry’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class was miserable about his resignation.

“Wonder what they’ll give us next year?” Seamus Finnigan said gloomily.

“Maybe a vampire,” Dean Thomas suggested hopefully.

“Nah, werewolves are cooler,” Seamus said.

The exam results came out on the last day of term. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had passed every subject, harry was amazed that he had got through Potions.

Percy had got his top-grade N.E.W.T.s; Fred and George had scrapped a handful of O.W.L.s each, an accomplish that rewarded George with some personal time with Oliver. Gryffindor House, meanwhile, largely thanks to their spectacular performance in the Quidditch Cup, had won the House championship for the third year running. Draco and Blaise joined in the celebration, clapping along with the rest of the school as the Slytherins stayed quiet. Draco looked and saw Theo still suffering from his jinx. Feeling pity, he subtly performed the counter-jinx that he magically remembered and watched as Theo opened his mouth for the first time in days. The Slytherin looked down at Draco and his eyes looked down apologetically. Draco just nodded and told Theo to eat, which he did with a certain ravish.

As the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station the next morning, Hermione gave Harry and Ron some surprising news.

“I went to see Professor McGonagall this morning, just before breakfast. I’ve decided to drop Muggle Studies.”

“But you passed your exam with three hundred and twenty percent!” Ron said.

“Why did you even take a class like that Granger?” Draco asked from his place at Harry’s side. Hermione ignored him and said, “I know, but I can’t stand another year like this one. That Time-Turner, it was driving me mad. I’ve handed it in. Without Muggle Studies and Divination, I’ll be able to have a normal schedule again.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell us about it,” Ron said grumpily. “We’re supposed to be your friends.”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Hermione said severely. She looked around at Harry, who was relaxing against Draco, watching Hogwarts disappear from view behind a mountain.

“Harry!” Ron said, “You’re staying with us right?”

“Huh,” Harry said looking at Ron. “Oh, yeah… next month. Dad’s off to Albania for work.”

“Why’s that?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know, Kingsley’s told my dad something’s important there. Dad just hopes he’ll be back for the Quidditch Cup,” Harry said.

“Well, Dad’ll always get tickets I’m sure he can get one for your dad,” Ron smiled.

Draco smirked and whispered at Harry, “Knowing Weasley, they’ll somehow manage to win box tickets.”

“Draco, stop,” Harry laughed. “That’s not nice.”

“What he said?”

“Nothing Ron, don’t worry,” Harry said. Both him and Draco laughed as Ron crossed his arms, throwing a friendly glare at Draco and Harry.

The compartment door opened and Blaise joined them. He complained to Draco for leaving him with Crabbe and Goyle (calling them trolls) and relaxed next to Ron, who didn’t seem to notice or complain about their closeness.

The train ride went smoothly for Harry, who was content with staying on Draco during the entire ride. As the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station at platform nine and three quarters, Ron, Hermione, and Blaise stood to get their luggage off of the overhead. Harry and Draco stayed back as the train stopped fully and the three exited, promising to wait on the station. Draco stood up and smiled down at Harry. “What’s the matter Harry?” he asked.

“I just don’t want to leave,” Harry said. “Call me childish… but I don’t know how I’ll deal with not seeing you for months.”

Draco chuckled. “Harry, since when were you this clingy? Of course you’re going to see me during the summer. Your dad did invite me over, didn’t he? And we will definitely see each other during the World Cup.”

That relieved Harry a little. “Yeah… I’m just being stupid.”

“No, not stupid,” Draco said. “Look at me Harry, never call yourself stupid, okay?” He gave a cocky smirk and said, “You’re dating the great Draco Malfoy. I won’t date anyone who calls or believes themselves to be stupid. Now come on, let’s get off.”

“Okay, but one thing first.”

“What—?” Harry kissed Draco before he could finish his question. Harry smirked as he stepped back and quickly got his luggage. “Come on Draco! Before Dad climbs onto the train to find us.”

He laughed to himself as he left the compartment.

“You cheeky lion,” Draco said following Harry. He couldn’t help but smile to himself. Draco got off the train and joined Harry and his friends. It was weird at first, admitting to himself that he liked Harry, but he was happy that he did. Even though they’ve been together for only a few months, Draco couldn’t envision his life without Harry. He truly was a light that shone on Draco’s life, and Draco was very happy for it. Who knows, maybe one day Draco might actually learn to love Harry, if he doesn’t already.


End file.
